Elder Scrolls: The Seeds of Fate
by Blade for Hire
Summary: Taken from his home and thrust into a land he's only heard about, Arken Dralkes must forge a new life in the exotic land of Morrowind. Lessons to be learned await the young Dunmer thief. Complete. Prequel to ESIV: Jaws of Oblivion. A/N: TBRS.
1. Chapter I

Elder Scrolls IV: The Seeds of Fate

I

"He's such a precious little boy."

The little baby Dunmer looked up into the faces of his parents from his mother's arms, cooing and giggling at their funny antics.

The father nodded, "He is. We're truly blessed to have been gifted with such a wonderful child."

The mother looked at her husband, "What should we name him, Vallen?"

The father smiled thoughtfully as he wiggled his finger in front of the baby boy, watching him awkwardly grab at it, "We'll name him 'Arken', after your grandfather, Darina. What do you think?"

_Wake up…_

The mother smiled, "I think it's a wonderful name. I know he'll be proud to carry it."

The father looked at the baby as he clutched his finger in tiny hands, "This boy is destined for great things, Darina. I can feel it in my bones."

_Wake up, lad. We've arrived…_

The mother smiled down at her child, "I hope we'll get to see what a great man he grows up to be one day."

_Wake up, lad…_

Arken's head came up with a start and he looked around. Same place as before. He'd been confined to the cargo hold of this ship for days that each seemed a century long. Over in the corner, someone else was sleeping under a blanket, muttering quietly as they tossed and turned in a fitful dream. They'd been sleeping for most of the journey.

Jiub, an older Dunmer with a long scar over his right eye, stood over Arken, gently shaking him awake, "Wake up, lad. I heard them say we've arrived in Morrowind."

Arken sat up on the floor and stretched his arms, "How long have I been out?"

Jiub shrugged, "Not long. Just the last few hours." He leaned back on a wooden barrel, "The guard will probably be along soon to come get one of us."

Arken nodded sourly as he recalled the reason he was here in the first place. He'd been born in Cyrodill, and was rightly a citizen of that province. He was being deported from Cyrodill to Morrowind on account of one dirty little detail. Arken was a thief, and a bloody good one, too. Orphaned at the tender age of seven, which is barely out of the womb by Dunmer standards, Arken had been forced to steal to survive. As he grew older, he continued to steal, since it was what he was good at, and amassed a good sum of wealth in doing so.

Then that one day came when he got cocky. Arken tried to rob Castle Leyawin without casing the security inside the castle. That, and Leyawin was his home at the time, so the guards all recognized him. He was caught while trying to escape with the goods by a guard patrol he hadn't accounted for. When the guards recognized him, they decided to search his house, and in so doing unearthed a king's ransom in stolen goods. They called in the Imperial Legion, who decided to simply ship him to Morrowind and get him as far away from them as possible. Now, Arken was on a boat, pulling into some port on Vardenfell, where he was going to have to start a new life from scratch.

Arken looked at Jiub, "Who do you think they'll take here?"

Jiub just shrugged, "Don't know." He jerked his thumb back to the other prisoner, the one still sleeping, "It's either you or them. Maybe both. I know they're planning to drop me off at Gnar Mok, so I'm certainly not getting off here."

Arken nodded and cracked his neck, stiff from improper support while sleeping. He was about to make a comment when he heard boot steps from the deck above.

The guard stepped down the ladder into the hold and pointed at Arken, "You there. The younger Dark Elf. Yeah, you. Let's go. This is where you're getting off. Come on, move it."

Jiub looked at the guard, then at Arken, "Better do what he says. You know how fussy he gets."

Arken nodded and extended his hand to the older Dunmer, "It was nice meeting you, Jiub. Maybe I'll see you around the island sometime."

Jiub just shook his hand and shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. Who knows. Good luck, lad."

The guard urged him on as Arken walked over to him, "Let's go. We don't have all day." He led Arken through the middle deck and over to a ladder leading topside before turning around to face him again, "On deck, prison rat. Move it."

Arken scowled at the guard for a moment before he climbed the ladder and pushed the hatch open, shielding his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun that he hadn't seen in several days. He climbed onto the deck, blinking the brightness out of his eyes, and walked up to the captain near the gangway to the dock.

The captain, a Redguard, nodded to Arken as he approached, "You're order says to drop you off here. They'll want to record you at the census office before you're released. It's right down at the end of the dock."

Arken looked around at the small port town they'd put in to, "What is this place?"

The captain looked out at the town, "Seyda Neen. We're at the southwestern corner of Vardenfell. The roads here lead to Balmora, Vivec, Gnar Mok, and a few other places."

Arken nodded and looked at the captain, "Thanks for the help. And by the by, I think your guard woke up with a stick up his backside this morning."

The captain shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, "Well, he may not be a people-person, but he's a good sailor. He doesn't give me reason to complain about his work. Good luck to you, kid." He called down the hatch to the guard as Arken walked down the gangway, "Get that other prisoner up here. Not the Dark Elf, the other one."

Arken walked to the building at the end of the dock where he was met by an Imperial Legion soldier. His first instinct was to turn and put some distance between him and the soldier, but he restrained that impulse upon recalling that his record in Morrowind was clean. The guard eyed Arken up and down once before opening the door and allowing him in. Inside was another guard and an official in brown robes standing next to a table. Arken assumed that he was the man to talk to, so he approached him.

The official looked up from a parchment he was reading, "Ah…yes…the deportee. I have your deportation order, but no other information on you besides that. I'll need to record a few things before you're released." He picked up a quill from the inkwell, "Your name?"

"Arken Dralkes, son of Vallen and Darina Dralkes."

The man jotted it down, "Place of birth?"

"Skingrad, Cyrodill."

The official continued writing, "Birth sign?"

Arken smirked, "The Thief."

The official stopped writing and looked at Arken over the top of the page, "Interesting. I do hope you won't be taking inspiration from that sign." He looked back at the parchment, "Do you have any skills that could be of use?"

Arken shrugged, "I know a little about blacksmithing, but I know mostly blade craft and combat." He neglected to mention that he was an able pickpocket and infiltrator.

The official continued writing for a moment before pounding a stamp in the corner of the parchment and handing it to Arken, "Show these to the guard captain to finish your release. And mind that you behave yourself here. You were already deported from Cyrodill, so don't force us to have to deport you from Morrowind, as well."

Arken gave him a disinterested nod as he accepted the paper, "I'll keep that in mind." Arken went through the door that the guard opened for him and into the empty room beyond. He went around the corner into a small dining area, warily eying the items in the room. He'd need some things to get started here, and he knew full well that the census office wouldn't notice a few things going missing. He snatched up a dagger that was lying on the table and looked it over. It had a decent edge and was in good condition, so he stashed it in his pocket, along with the dozen loose coins someone had carelessly left on the table. After using his hidden lockpick to open and empty a small box with more drakes in it, Arken went through the door into the next building, where he found the guard captain he was supposed to talk to.

Arken handed the guard his papers, "I was told you need these."

The guard snatched the paper from Arken's hand and looked it over for a long moment before taking a small pouch from the desk behind him and tossing it to Arken, "That's the full release fee. Now get a move on. I'm expecting someone." Not wasting anymore time around the "charming" guard captain, Arken went through the door on the opposite end of the room and out of the building, looking around at the street he'd come out on. Seyda Neen was a quiet little town, it seemed. Arken sighed as he looked at the people milling around the area. Not much going on here, which was didn't bode well for someone like him. He just shrugged. This wasn't the only city on the island. One of them had to be sporting a little more action. Only time would tell. Arken secured the pouch of gold to his belt as he started down the street. His new life had begun.

------------

Arken drew his dagger as he cautiously opened the cave door and crept in. The interior of the cave was dark and damp, the darkness occasionally broken by sputtering torchlight. Arken's biggest problem right now was that he had no work, meaning no way to acquire gold to spend. Besides thievery, the only thing he had any experience at was as an adventurer. Back in Leyawin, he was fairly well known as an expert in entering caves, ruins, and forts to acquire the treasures they often held. Most of the time, he would go kill off a bandit ring or marauder band and sell what equipment they had that was worth anything. Arken resigned himself to doing the same thing here in Morrowind until he could get some drakes in his pocket. He'd heard around town that some shady sorts ran a racket out of a nearby cave, Addamasartus Cave. It was the best place to start.

Arken didn't get far into the cave before someone caught notice of him. He heard someone calling at him and saw a Dunmer woman brandishing a whitish dagger. She charged at him and thrust forward with her blade when she closed the distance. Arken deftly sidestepped her attack, but her retaliation took him by surprise. She changed her thrust into a slash at Arken's arm, cutting across his bicep. Arken stepped back and grabbed the wound, stemming the bleeding. The woman attacked again with another slash. This time Arken dodged back from the slash and spun around behind her, jamming his own dagger into her back between her shoulder blades. She doubled over and fell to the dirt floor motionless.

Arken took a moment to catch his breath and look at his arm. The cut was shallow, but bleeding profusely. Arken ripped the sleeve off of the Dunmer woman's shirt to make a hasty bandage before searching her body for anything of value. Besides a few spare drakes and the weapon she was using, the only other item Arken found was a small key in her pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it in the cavern's low light. The key was small, thin, and covered in brown rust. Arken shrugged and slipped it into his pocket. It might unlock something of value further into the cave. He went to the door she was guarding and gave it a push, frowning when the door's only response was a hard rattle. Arken looked around the room briefly before quickly ramming his shoulder against the door and breaking the lock loose from the rotted wood. He cracked the door open and cautiously peered inside, checking to see if anyone had heard his entrance. After assuring himself that he was still as yet undiscovered, he slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

Arken now had a choice. The wooden walkway in front of him split in two directions. On his right, he could descend deeper into the cave. On his left, a set of wooden stairs led up to what looked like a door. Tentatively, Arken started up to the left, mostly on the grounds that it was better lit. He kept in a low crouch and did his best to stay quiet, not knowing what other tenants the cave supported. He mounted the stairs and came to a locked wooden door. He looked between the boards and furrowed his brow at what he saw. Behind the door, there were two Argonians and a Khajiit with sandy fur with brown strakes starting just above his eyes and descending his back. All three were thin, sickly, and barely dressed. Arken checked his back to make sure no one was behind him before investigating further.

He knocked on the door lightly and waved to the Khajiit, "Hey, over here."

The Khajiit looked around at hearing a voice, and his ears dropped back when he saw Arken, "Oh, no. Please, have mercy…"

Arken shook his head, "I'm not going to hurt you. Who are you guys? What are you doing here?"

The Khajiit looked at Arken more closely and his ears perked up, "You…you are not one of them. Who are you?"

"That depends on who you are."

The Khajiit nodded to him, "My name is Ra'Jharra. I am…I _was_ a dockworker in Seyda Neen before these scoundrels got their filthy paws on me. Now, I am nothing more than wares to be sold or traded."

Arken frowned, "Wares? What do you mean?" He thought for a moment before it came to him, "You're a slave?"

Ra'Jharra's grim nod was telling enough. Arken just stood there, looking at these poor people, flabbergasted at the concept that they were merely property to be bought, sold, or traded at their owner's whim. Slavery was illegal in the Empire, one of the few laws Arken actually abided by, though it seemed that things were drastically different in this province. Had these slaves been normal people, Arken would simply have shrugged and left them to their own problems. But as he looked at these poor souls, locked up like animals, he felt something of a kinship to them. The Legion had taken his life from him and sent him to this Oblivion-forsaken land, just as these poor beings had had their lives stripped from them so mercilessly. A resolve formed in Arken's heart and mind as he slowly pulled the small, rusty key from his pocket and looked at it. These people deserved more than this. No one, no matter what race, deserved a life of forced servitude. Arken resolved that as long as he was here in Morrowind, however long that would be, he would see to it that this practice was ended.

Arken looked at Ra'Jharra, "I'm getting you out of here." He slid the key into the lock and turned to open the door.

Ra'Jharra should have been overjoyed, but his response was unusual, "It will do no good." He held up his right arm, displaying a shimmering metal bracer, "Unless you can remove these, also, than it will accomplish nothing. These are magically tied to an amulet worn by the master. They will harm us if we go too far from him."

Arken grabbed the Khajiit's arm to look at the bracer. After a quick examination, he discovered that the keyhole on the bracers was identical to the one on the lock. He stuck the key in and turned, rewarded with a quiet click and the bracer falling open.

Ra'Jharra's eyes widened and his ears perked up when he saw the bracer fall to the dirt floor, "You…you have freed me. I cannot thank you enough, kind sir."

Arken waved away the comment as he unlocked the bracers on the Argonians, "Don't worry about it. No one deserves a slave's life."

As the Argonians quietly escaped the cave, Ra'Jharra stayed behind, "What is your name, sir?"

Arken cocked an eyebrow as he pocketed the key, "Arken. Arken Dralkes."

Ra'Jharra walked up to him and bowed, "Arken Dralkes, in return for your great gift of my freedom, I offer you my service, such as it is, until death or such time as you release me."

Arken shook his head adamantly, "If I take you into my service, I'd be no better than the mongrels who captured you. Go home. Go back to your life."

Ra'Jharra stepped back and motioned to himself, "What you see is all that I have. I have nothing. And my service to you is of my own choosing, not against my will." He bowed to one knee and looked up at the young Dunmer, "This is all I can offer. Please, allow me to repay you for the life you have returned to me."

Arken frowned. There was obviously no persuading this cat from what he'd made up his mind to. He never really saw himself as the type to have a servant, mostly because he never really wanted anyone relying on him for anything. All he could do was let this Khajiit scratch his itch and then release him as soon as possible.

Arken looked at Ra'Jharra, "Can you fight?"

Ra'Jharra nodded, "I am not without skills. I have claimed my fair share of bandits and brigands in my time."

Arken nodded hesitantly, "Alright." He took the white dagger he'd taken from the Dunmer woman from his pocket and handed it to Ra'Jharra, "You know how to use one of these?" Ra'Jharra nodded confidently as he stood and accepted the dagger.

"Good. Now stay behind me and keep your distance. If I need help, I'll signal for you." Without another word, Arken drew his own dagger and turned to leave the cage. He descended the wooden steps, coming within view of a small pond with a boardwalk build over it. As he went, Arken didn't hear any footsteps behind him, but a quick check over his shoulder confirmed that Ra'Jharra was indeed following. Arken made a mental note: the cat could move quietly. That could prove useful in the future.

Arken came to a stop in the mouth of the cavern. There was someone on the boardwalk, another Dunmer in brown robes. Arken waved back at Ra'Jharra, signaling him to keep quiet and stay out of sight. He slinked toward the Dunmer, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

He failed. Arken's foot landed on a loose stone that gave under his weight. His foot slipped out from under him, causing him to inadvertently kick a bunch of pebbles into the pond. The Dunmer turned around with a start at the noise and pointed at Arken, shouting something about an intruder and a few words Arken couldn't understand. Not wasting anymore time with stealth, Arken stood and charged the Dunmer. His advance was rudely halted when the Dunmer extended his hand toward Arken, lighting off a fireball that blasted him back several feet. Arken jumped to his feet and ripped his burning shirt off, tossing it into the water. As the Dunmer extended his hand toward Arken again, a white dagger flew out of nowhere and stabbed him squarely in the chest, dropping the robed Dunmer dead on the floor.

Arken furrowed his brow, wondering what had just happened, when another weapon flew by him from a different direction. He turned to face the new threat and raised his dagger in defense. It was another Dark Elf woman, holding several small throwing stars and rearing back to throw one. She flung it with perfect spin aimed squarely at Arken. The young Dunmer dove forward and rolled underneath the star as it flew over him and embedded in the wall. He rolled to his feet and sprinted at the woman, closing the distance before she could throw another star. Arken tackled her to the ground, jamming his dagger into the base of her neck on the way down. He pulled the blade out and cleaned the blood off on her clothes before standing up and looking back for Ra'Jharra. He found the Khajiit removing his dagger from the robed Dunmer's chest.

Arken walked up to him, panting lightly from his brief exertion, "How'd you do that?"

Ra'Jharra held up the dagger and balanced it at the hilt on one finger, "Chitin weapons are light, yet strong. This dagger is well balanced; perfect for throwing."

Arken nodded, "You seem to know a thing or two about throwing weapons."

The Khajiit nodded as he sheathed the dagger, "To be honest, I am better at throwing them then swinging them."

Arken shrugged, "Well, to each, his own." He pointed at a torch on the boardwalk, "Grab that torch and let's see what's in this cave." Ra'Jharra did as he was bidden and pulled the torch from its holder as Arken walked back into the dark part of the cave the woman was guarding. Ra'Jharra brought the light over and revealed what the darkness hid. There was a stack of crates as high as Arken was tall, as well as a small chest and a number of loose items scattered around.

Arken smiled and clapped his hands together, "Jackpot!" He lifted the lid on one crate and started rummaging through it.

Ra'Jharra nodded as he used the torch to light another and started looking in another crate, "So this is why you're here?"

Arken nodded as he pulled out a new shirt and slipped it on, "Pretty much. This is what I do. You might call me an adventurer, of sorts." Arken looked down at the shirt and straightened it, "I do that…among other things."

Ra'Jharra looked at Arken out of the corner of his eye as he inspected the lock on the chest, "What sort of other things, pray tell?"

Arken shrugged, figuring airing the dirty laundry might scare the Khajiit out of his servant vow, "Might as well be out with it. I'm a thief, which was actually what wound me up here in Morrowind in the first place."

Ra'Jharra nodded nonchalantly, his ears perking up as he heard the chest's lock tumblers trip, "Deported, eh? I know the feeling."

Arken looked up from the crate he was digging through at the Khajiit, "What do you mean you know the feeling?"

Ra'Jharra opened the chest and ran his hand over the gold coins inside, "I was a small-time pickpocket and pilferer back in Elsweyr. I was deported here when I tried to pick the pocket of a Legion captain. That's why I've been a dockworker for the last ten years."

Arken's eyes widened at what he heard. Maybe he could get to like this cat after all. He dropped the lid of the crate and leaned on the side, facing Ra'Jharra.

"We're you successful at all?"

The Khajiit scoffed, "If I was successful, do you think I would be here, loading boxes onto ships all day?"

Arken nodded, "Good point." He crossed his arms, "How does this sound to you? You teach me what you know about marksmanship and sneaking, and I'll show you what I know about blade craft and successful thieving."

Ra'Jharra looked from the chest of gold to Arken, "If you were so successful, how did you wind up here in Morrowind?"

Arken shrugged, "I got cocky. That's all there is to it. But before that, I had quite the fortune from stolen goods." He stood and walked over to Ra'Jharra, "So what do you say?"

Ra'Jharra stood and extended a clawed hand to Arken, "Agreed." The two sealed the deal with a handshake and went back to ransacking the crates and goods. It was a good haul. They were able to find a pair of steel longswords to arm themselves with instead of shoddy daggers, as well as supplies to feed themselves for a while and a fair sum of gold to sustain them. In addition to all that, the rest of the goods they pulled from the cave went for decent prices at the local trader shop. Arken and Ra'Jharra walked out of the shop each with a full suit of chitin armor and a number of various weapons they'd need, and still had a decent amount of money to spare. Arken smiled as he secured the pouch of gold to his belt. It was a good start. If he kept on this path, and maybe add a few lucrative shortcuts, he would have the fortune he'd lost, and then some, within a few short years. The very next morning, Ra'Jharra packed their things before they set out for the town called Balmora. There was a whole new world out there just waiting for them, and neither was going to decline the invitation.


	2. Chapter II

II

Arken looked down the street before rounding the corner and proceeding. Upon arriving in Balmora, finding a place to live was surprisingly easy. As it turned out, there was a house that had just gone up for sale before they'd arrived. The former owner was an Orc outlaw that some Fighters Guild adventurer had killed for the bounty on her head. Arken bought the house cheap and made himself at home quickly. He slept in the main room on the ground floor while Ra'Jharra stayed in the storage area upstairs. Over the couple of weeks that followed, the house had begun to fill with valuable items and goods, many of which not necessarily of a legal nature. It hadn't taken them long to gain a good bit of money.

Arken came to a small store and pushed the creaky wooden door open to step through. After closing the door behind him, Arken turned to greet the owner. Ra'Virr was the Khajiit trader of the town of Balmora. He did decent business for the size of his shop and the town. What few people knew was that Ra'Virr was also a decent fence. Ra'Virr would buy anything, legal or not. He even did a little business in the skooma trade. Arken had long ago established a business relationship with Ra'Virr, and both were making some good coin from it.

The Khajiit's tufted ears perked up when he saw Arken, "Ah, good friend, the Dunmer. What can old Ra'Virr do for you today?"

"Glad you asked." Arken smirked mischievously as he pulled a small sack off his back. He set it on a nearby crate and opened it up to reveal a number of silver plates, pitchers, and cups, "What price can you get me for these?"

Ra'Virr's reaction unfortunately didn't surprise Arken. Instead of being happy for the business opportunity, his ears dropped back and he shifted uneasily.

"Ah, yes…well…this one is not sure what he can do for you right now. Business, you see, has been uneasy of late. He doesn't think he can purchase anything for while."

Arken frowned and leaned on the crate, "You're acting a little too shifty for just bad business to be keeping you back. Come clean with me, Ra'Virr. You used to be willing to buy the shirt off my back if I offered it. You can't convince me you're doing yourself any good by not buying what I have.

Ra'Virr frowned and leaned back against the wall behind him, "Tell that to the Legion officer who was poking his paws around this one's store yesterday."

Arken furrowed his brow, "You got searched?"

The Khajiit nodded, "Yes. Fortunately for you, this one had already sold all that you had brought in before the officer arrived. This cannot go on like this, Dralkes. If this one is caught in possession of your stolen goods, it's the dungeons for him. This one cannot buy anything from you until all of the heat is off, and he does not care how long that will take. He would rather lose business than lose freedom."

Arken stood up and crossed his arms, "I've dumped thousands of drakes worth of business in your lap and you're dropping me like a hot ash yam?"

Ra'Virr nodded, "A very hot ash yam, yes. Come back when the heat's off. Now if you'll excuse, unless you have any legal business to transact, then this one would prefer not to be seen in your company."

Arken grabbed the bag of silverware and left the shop in a huff. He was thoroughly displeased with what he was seeing these days. Patrols in the streets had nearly doubled in the last week, and guild fences were starting to turn down purchasing their goods, citing that they were too hot for them. It appeared that the local authorities were starting to take notice that there were thieves in town. Right now, Arken and Ra'Jharra were laying low, staying out of sight and away from the guards. Arken shook his head. It seemed that the predators were overgrazing their prey. They may have gotten themselves into a bind by snatching too much too fast. Some of the legitimate jobs from the Fighters Guild had yielded some lucrative benefits, but money was still coming a lot slower than Arken cared for.

Arken blew through the door to his house and Ra'Jharra took his cloak as he passed, "Is everything all right, master?"

Arken dropped heavily into a seat at the table, "For the billionth time, Ra'Jharra, call me 'Arken'."

The Khajiit shook his head, "Propriety dictates that a servant never use his lord's name."

Arken shrugged, "Well, if you insist, then 'sir' is fine. Titles make my skin crawl." Ra'Jharra set a mug of water down on the table and Arken took a drink to wet his throat, "And to answer your question, no, everything is not all right. In fact, everything is decidedly bad. You may have noticed that there's a record number of Imperial Legion soldiers patrolling Balmora's streets lately."

Ra'Jharra nodded, "I did, which is unusual, given that Balmora is under Hlaalu jurisdiction."

Arken nodded, "Exactly, which means only one of two things: either the Legion is pushing into Balmora, or the Hlaalu have asked for help scouring the streets for thieves and the like. Given House Hlaalu's overwhelming support of the Empire, I doubt it's the former. Also, I just had a little…discussion with Ra'Virr. He's refusing to buy until the heat's off, and he was the last fence who hadn't frozen us out."

Ra'Jharra nodded slowly, "So what does this mean for us?"

Arken looked up at the cat, "It means we're completely frozen out until the Hlaalu get their undies out of a bunch." He leaned one elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead, "I hope this doesn't mean we have to relocate to another town."

Ra'Jharra took a step back and leaned against the wall, "There may be another way to evade the authorities. You could seek sanction."

Arken looked at the Khajiit and cocked an eyebrow, "Come again?"

"It was not uncommon in Elsewyr for a thief or assassin to seek sanction from one of the more powerful clans. Sanction was the power for that thief or assassin to go about his business, so long as he did so against rival clans, and his clan would help cover for him, provided he was not apprehended by the authorities. The great houses of Morrowind regularly hire assassins to conduct their house wars. It would not be a far stretch for one to take a thief under their wing."

Arken frowned as he thought about the concept. A thief in the employ of one of the great houses. That could definitely help. Having the resources of one of the great houses covering his backside would be very useful. The only thing that really bothered Arken was simply the idea of being in someone else's employ. Arken enjoyed the notion of taking orders about as much as the notion of using himself as slaughterfish bait.

Arken shook his head, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. If we go under the wing of some great house fat cat, no offense, they might try to exercise their authority a little more than I'm comfortable with. They may try to limit who we can steal from, or where we can sell, or try to get us to pull a crazy job. And if we don't cooperate, a quick yelp to the local guards and it's a long time in a very small cell for both of us."

Ra'Jharra nodded, "That all depends on getting the right house. Some houses may be a little more…authoritative than others. If you find one that is willing to work with you, the mutual benefit can be quite lucrative."

Arken nodded as he thought about it some more. The thought definitely did have merit. Being a thief sanctioned by one of the great houses to steal from their rivals definitely could be useful, plus they could provide some legal work along the way.

Arken nodded, then looked at Ra'Jharra, "If this whole 'sanction' thing is so wonderful, then why didn't you get it ten years ago when you first came here?"

The Khajiit scoffed, "Because I had an Imperial Legion captain constantly looking over my shoulder before I was kidnapped by those slavers. The Legion presence in Seyda Neen may be small, but they are exceptionally nosy."

Arken shrugged. So, sanction it is then. The only problem was finding the right house.

"You've been here longer, Ra'j. Which house do you think would work?"

Ra'Jharra went about setting the table for lunch as he spoke, "House Indoril is the ruling house, so we want to steer clear of them. The Ordinators would love to get their hands on the likes of us. House Dres is nothing but a bunch of puppet nobles in fancy clothing when you break it all down, so not much potential there. We want to stay as far away from House Dagoth as physically possible. A lot of bad things going on there. House Telvanni would no doubt be too demanding, putting us in compromising situations. Hlaalu is too pro-Imperial for our liking. That leaves only House Redoran."

Arken nodded as he listened, "The 'West-Gash-goodie-goodies'? You sure one of the others wouldn't work?"

Ra'Jharra shook his head, "I think House Redoran would be the best option. They hold the strongest to the ancient Dunmer traditions and rituals. They make extensive use of assassins for house wars. A thief in their employ would not be too far fetched."

Arken sat back in his chair, "It looks like the best option we have. I'll look into it next time I'm out in Ald'Ruhn." Arken scoffed and rolled his eyes, "It sure beats the idea of waiting around doing nothing until the heat's off." He took a quick look at his calendar before standing up, "Right now, I have to get out to Sadrith Mora. Fighters Guild has a job for me out there, and the client is liable to get a little testy if I'm late. I'll probably be gone for a couple days."

Ra'Jharra grabbed Arken's cloak and handed it to him, "What should I do while you're gone?"

Arken shrugged as he fastened the cloak, "Not much you can do. Just keep your ear to the ground and keep an eye on the legionnaires." Arken tossed the cloak's trail around his shoulders and opened the door to leave. He crossed the bridges over the Odai River that ran through the center of Balmora and headed for the local Mages Guild chapter. He came to the front door of the hall, but found a notice nailed to the door that he stopped to read.

Arken muttered the words aloud as he read them, "To the concerned citizens of Balmora: The Balmora guild guide is presently in Gnisis on guild business and will not be back until next week. The guild apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause in your travel plans." Arken rolled his eyes as he turned away from the door, "Great. My luck's turning out to be all bad these days." He looked up toward the sun to gauge the time. The silt strider wouldn't be leaving for another hour, so Arken had to consign himself to waiting, an activity he liked about as much as taking orders. He sighed and pulled his sword half way out of the scabbard to look at the edge. He'd been meaning to get some of the nicks repaired, so now was as good a time as any. Arken shoved the sword back into the scabbard as he headed over to the Razor Hole, the local weapon shop. He pushed the door open and stepped through, nodding to the Hlaalu guard as he closed it behind him. Rule number one for a thief: _never_ act guilty in front of the law. Give them no reason to suspect you, and they won't. When Arken turned to find Thorck, he found the Nord arguing with a Dunmer in green and brown robes, apparently a mage from the look of him.

Thorck shook his head to the Dunmer, "I'm sorry, lad, but that's my price for weapon and armor repairs. I don't make exceptions for the Fighters Guild, so there's no reason I should for the Mages Guild."

The Dunmer mage spoke with a born-and-bred Morrowind accent, "The guild is more than willing to compensate you for it. We can make this worth your while if you're willing to work with us."

Thorck shook his head, "I can't do that. It'll run my revenues down far enough to put a significant dent in my budgets. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to tell your Archmage that I can't give any discounts for repairs."

The Dunmer breathed a sigh, "It looks like I'll just have to pass on the message." He pulled a sword from beneath his robes, "Can you repair this for me, at least? The guard is loose from the hilt."

Thorck looked at the sword and nodded, "Twenty five."

The Dunmer's eyes widened, "Twenty five? I'm not sure I have that much to spare right now."

The Nord shook his head, "If you can't pay for it, I can't repair it."

"That's alright, Thorck." Arken stepped forward and dropped a small pouch of coins on the blacksmith's table, "I'll cover him. And while you're at it, beat some of the nicks out of my blade, if you don't mind."

Thorck checked the pouch and accepted Arken's and the mage's blades, "Alright. It's your money, Dralkes." He grabbed a hammer and turned around to his anvil.

The Dunmer mage looked at Arken, "Thank you. I can't really repay you right now, but I will."

Arken waved away the comment, "Don't worry about it. You're going to have enough trouble relaying your bad news to the Archmage." He extended his hand, "Arken Dralkes, freelance adventurer."

The mage shook his hand, "Fynix Nylim, Mages Guild." Fynix leaned back against the wall behind him, "Do you live here in Balmora?"

Arken nodded, "Yes, across the Odai. Right now I'm just killing time until the silt strider leaves." Arken leaned against the wall next to him, "What about you? Are you local?"

Fynix scoffed, "Hardly. I live on the other side of the island, in Sadrith Mora. I was here on guild business. Spent nearly half my drakes on striders and boats just getting here."

Arken shrugged, "Tough break." He shifted his weight to his other foot, "Mages Guild, right? What do you specialize in?"

"Destruction and Alteration, although I'm decent at Restoration and Alchemy."

Arken nodded, "So you could blast the flesh off my bones and then glue it back onto the blackened skeleton when you're done?"

Fynix nodded, "That is the correct, if not morbid, way of putting it. I'm a battlemage. My use of magic is more for fighting than for than anything, but I'm an accomplished healer, nonetheless." Fynix glanced over at Thorck to check on his sword briefly before looking back at Arken, "You said you were waiting for the silt strider. Might I inquire to where you're off to?"

"Sadrith Mora. Fighters Guild business, along with a few personal errands."

Fynix raised his eyebrows, "Then I have a chance to repay you for helping me. The strider master here is a personal friend of my father. He gives me discounts. It's not a free ride, but it's better than what you'd normally get."

Arken nodded to him, "Well, thank you. I appreciate it." Arken took a good look at this mage, this Fynix Nylim, as he received his repaired sword from Thorck. He seemed to be a good man, which was unusual given that Arken didn't usually get along with mages and wizards. Too snobby. Finding a mage who was willing to return one good turn for another was a rare thing. Arken would definitely have to keep him in mind. Thorck finished off Arken's blade and both he and Fynix left the shop to head to the silt strider platform. On the way to Sadrith Mora, transferring to a boat at Vivec, Arken and Fynix continued to converse with one another. By the time they reached the ports of Sadrith Mora, Arken had finally made up in his mind that this mage was a good man, and both had become well acquainted. Arken made a mental note to stay in touch with Fynix as the two parted ways from the docks. Arken nodded to himself as he watched Fynix the dirt road. It seemed that he'd made not only an ally today, but for the first time in his life, a friend. He took a deep breath of the salty air as he began walking toward the town. This land of Morrowind truly did hold some interesting mysteries. Arken smiled as he entered town. All mysteries could be solved, it was only a matter of how.


	3. Chapter III

III

Two Fighters Guild mercenaries, Sig and Dartus, stayed in the bushes that hid them, watching the bandit scout from their concealed location. They were only two out of the three soldiers assigned to this contract, and they were waiting for the third.

Sig, a Nord, looked from the bandit watchman to Dartus, "How do we know this 'Arken' kid's plan isn't going to backfire and get us killed?"

The Imperial, Dartus, kept looking at the watchman, "I've seen Arken work before. His plan will work."

Sig scoffed, "Well, I'm glad you trust him. I trust that Dunmer twerp about as far as I can throw him."

Dartus finally looked at Sig, "Arken may be new, but he knows what he's doing. Trust me."

As if on cue, a pair of hands reached out of the shadows behind the bandit and yanked him in. There was no sound of struggle, only a loud crack before the bandit's lifeless body fell out of the shadows, his head turned around at an odd angle. Arken slipped into view by the door the bandit was guarding and motioned toward the brush, signaling his fellow soldiers to join him.

Dartus looked at Sig and smirked, "I told you." The two men joined their elf companion and went through the door. Arken kept one hand on his sword as they cautiously advanced through the dark hallways of the bandit fortress. The objective of the contract was to eliminate the bandit leader in this fort. Apparently the locals were tired of being harassed by this bandit gang and had called in the Fighters Guild to put a stop to it.

Arken took a moment to reflect as they moved through the halls. The last two years had gone by fairly quickly. It turned out that Ra'Jharra was right about House Redoran. As a hireling of House Redoran, Arken was restricted to stealing from the other great houses, but the other houses had more money and goods then the Redoran, so that suited him just fine. He could sell the stolen goods to Redoran merchants to act as fences and they would help him avoid the wrong end of the law. However, to keep up appearances, Redoran guards still had to act if they caught Arken stealing. Redoran citizens would begin to question the house's morals if they allowed a thief to run about unchecked. Still, having the great house's resources backing him had greatly bolstered Arken's thieving lifestyle and poured all the more money into his coffers.

It was also during the last two years that Arken's new friend, Fynix, had accidentally discovered that Arken was a thief. Arken had been snooping around Wolverine Hall and was about to snatch of some very expensive alchemy equipment when Fynix walked in on him unexpectedly. What struck Arken as odd, though, was that Fynix kept his mouth shut. Rather than running to the guards and ratting him out, Fynix simply turned around and walked out of the room. It was something that Arken was a little uneasy about, wondering whether Fynix was going to try to use this against him. He still had to talk to Fynix about it.

Dartus waving them back brought Arken out of his reverie, causing him to tighten his grip on his sword. Arken crouched low and waited with Sig while Dartus scouted the hallway. The Imperial moved cautiously forward for a moment before looking around and waving his companions up. Arken and Sig joined him as they resumed their careful movement. They finally came to a large room lined with pillars and a desk at the far end. The bandit leader was sitting at the desk with his head buried in some paperwork while the other ten or eleven of them milled around the room.

Dartus kept his eyes on the room, looking around and analyzing the situation, "Needless to say, we're badly outnumbered." He pointed to the desk at the far end of the room, "That's the leader. We kill him, and any other bandits that survive will be too busy fighting over who's going to succeed him to be a bother to anyone."

Arken nodded as he took his bonemold longbow from his back, "He's mine. When I shoot, you two move in from two different directions at the same time."

Sig frowned, "We attack individually instead of together? That's suicide."

Arken shook his head slowly as he gauged the distance to the bandit leader, "Think about it Sig. The leader dies suddenly, then they're attacked from two different directions at the same time. They'll be too disoriented to mount a counterattack."

"The plan has merit." Dartus nodded at the young Dark Elf, "Make your shot, Arken, but make it count. If you miss, this whole thing falls apart fast."

Arken smirked mischievously, "I don't make a habit of failing, Dartus." With that final word, Arken split off from them and moved through the shadows around to a ladder that led to a higher vantage point. He perched on a ceiling rafter above everyone else and drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. He nocked the arrow on the bow and drew back, sighting the bandit leader. Sig and Dartus doubted that Arken could make the shot, but they didn't know that he'd been paying very good attention while Ra'Jharra had been teaching him about marksmanship. Arken loosed the arrow, letting it fly through the air to its mark. The bandit leader sat up in his chair to speak to one of his men just in time for the steel arrow to stake him squarely in the chest, killing him instantly and pinning the body to the chair. The bandits all drew their weapons and started looking around. Sig and Dartus' attacks came briefly afterward. Sig jumped out of the shadows along the wall swinging his silver claymore with reckless abandon while Dartus stepped out from the darkness and unleashed a fireball from his palm. Two more bandits died suddenly, adding to the confusion and panic that was beginning to set in among them. Arken drew back another arrow and loosed it at another bandit down below, dropping him dead on the floor with a steel arrow through his neck. He drew another arrow back and shot another bandit in the chest while Sig and Dartus each clamed one more bandit each. With most of them dead, the four remaining bandits all turned and ran, disappearing into the halls of the fortress. Arken smiled. His plan had worked flawlessly. He allowed himself a self-satisfied nod as he jumped from the rafter down to the floor below, landing in a crouch.

Sig secured his claymore to his back as he walked up to Arken, "It would seem I owe you an apology, Dunmer. Your idea worked better than I thought it would."

Arken nodded and smirked to Sig, "Just remember this next time you're working with a Dunmer twerp that you don't trust any farther than you can throw."

Sig's eyes widened, "You heard…" He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

Dartus set his mace on his belt as he walked up to Arken, "That was a good shot, Arken. Your plan went down without a hitch, and it was the only reason we did so well. I'm going to recommend to Eydis that that you get a bonus for that."

Arken shrugged, "Suits me fine, but I'm happy with the five hundred drakes I'll be getting." The group left the fortress and made the half-day journey back to Balmora to collect their rewards. After leaving the Fighters Guild with six hundred and fifty drakes as opposed to the five hundred he was expecting, Arken went next door to the Mages Guild and paid the travel fee to the guild guide to be transported to Sadrith Mora. Arken couldn't put it off any longer. He had to talk to Fynix, ask him why he didn't squeal. The question was gnawing at him. Arken came to Fynix's house, which looked like the cap of an enormous mushroom much like all the rest of the architecture in Sadrith Mora, and knocked on the door. Fynix shouted through the door for him to enter and Arken pushed his way in. He found Fynix at his desk with his nose in a book, a very familiar position. Arken walked up next to the desk and leaned on the wall, causing his chitin armor to click loudly as it protested his body's position.

Fynix's head came up when he heard the noise, "Oh, Arken. Good to see you. Everything all right?"

Arken nodded, "Just fine. I just dropped in to talk."

Fynix chuckled, "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a conversationalist." His chuckle faded to nothing when he saw Arken's sincere look, "But something tells me you're not here for idle chatter, are you."

Arken nodded slowly and he took a deep breath before continuing, "Why didn't you sell me out?"

Fynix's brow crumpled and he canted his head, "Sell you out…Oh, you mean, to the guards…about your…"

"Yes, about my being a thief." Arken nodded, "That was over a month ago. You've had plenty of time to sell me out to the first guard or legionnaire you see and claim the bounty. Why haven't you?"

Fynix set his quill down and sat back in his chair, "That's a fair question, I suppose. You're probably wondering if I'm going to blackmail you or something."

Arken nodded again, "That's crossed my mind once or twice, yes."

Fynix nodded slowly as he sat there, wondering how to phrase his answer, "Yes, it is a fair question. As for a fair answer for you, I'm afraid I don't have one."

Arken furrowed his brow, "Come again?"

Fynix breathed a deep sigh before continuing, "To be perfectly honest with you, Arken, I don't really know why I didn't sell you out. I know what you do is illegal. I'm a law-abiding citizen myself, although by not ratting you out I've already broken two or three laws. I know that it's wrong, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to do it. There's something…" He trailed off for a moment while looking at Arken, "There's something different about you, Arken. Something that won't let me sell you to the highest bidder like a cheap sack of saltrice." He paused for a moment before leaning forward and putting his elbows on his desk, "I don't mean to pry, but how did you grow up? Friends? Family? Childhood?"

Arken shrugged, making his armor click again, "Not much to tell. My parents were merchants in Cyrodill. They were killed by a wolf when I was seven. I don't know why the wolf didn't come after me, but it didn't. I made Bravil my new home."

Fynix cocked an eyebrow, "I'm not all that familiar with the geography of Cyrodill."

Arken scoffed, "If you own Bravil and the Void, rent out Bravil and live in the Void. It's a lousy little dive of a city. Needless to say, I don't have any fond memories of the place. I was too young to have a trade or livelihood, so I often had to steal food just to survive. The guards usually ignored me when I was little. I guess they just wrote me off as a little beggar kid. As I grew older, I started stealing things that were a little more valuable then a loaf of bread, which in turn earned me the guard's attentions. It didn't take long before they started threatening me with prison. When I was eighteen, I finally scrounged up enough money to be able to move out of that stink hole. On my way to my new home in Leyawin, a nicer city in the south of the province, I ran into the same wolf that killed my parents." Arken reached around to his back and produced a rolled up bedroll that he showed to Fynix, "Obviously, he didn't survive our encounter. I skinned the thing and made this bedroll out of its pelt. I still find it ironic that the creature that made my childhood so cold now keeps me warm at night. Anyway, I kept at the life of a thief while I was in Leyawin, using freelance adventurer as a cover. Made quite a few drakes while I was at it."

Fynix nodded as he listened, "So what brought you here to Morrowind? 'Business' opportunities, perhaps?"

Arken chuckled, "Hardly. I got cocky. I tried to run a job into Castle Leyawin, but didn't bother to check that they had recently increased the patrols. I got nabbed, and the guards recognized me instantly. They searched my house and turned up all the stolen goods I was keeping there, a total of two hundred and fifty thousand drakes worth." Arken smiled nostalgically, "I hold the 'honor' of having the highest bounty ever recorded in the Leyawin City Watch's history. They called in the Legion, who deported me out here." Arken stood up and straightened his cuirass, "So there you have it. My entire history up to present. I wouldn't blame you for turning me in. Any other law abider I know would. It's your choice."

Fynix sat there, thinking for a long moment before shaking his head, "I'm not going to turn you in, Arken." He sat back in his chair, "And I'll tell you why. I won't turn you in because I think you deserve more than that. Yes, I understand that you're a thief, but what else are you. What are you under the thief veneer you've built up around yourself?" Fynix pointed at Arken, "It's the man beneath the thief I look at when I see you. And the man I see is a good man who's had to make some rough choices in life." Fynix smiled, "Your secret's safe with me."

Arken returned his smile, "You don't know just how much I appreciate this, Fynix."

Fynix shook his head, "Don't mention it. It's the least I can do for a friend."

After quietly excusing himself, Arken left Fynix to his studies. He left Fynix's house, but didn't go back to the Mage's Guild to go home. Instead, he went down the street a little ways and found a quiet place to sit for a while. Arken sat down on the dirt road and thought. He thought about the word Fynix used. "Friend". It echoed around in his brain for a long time. Arken thought back to his young life in Cyrodill and quickly came to realize that no one had ever used that word referring to him before. Arken had never had a friend before, at least not a true friend. The friends he had before were more allies of convenience than actual friends. Never before in his life had anyone actually called Arken "friend" the way Fynix just had. It was a new concept to him, and he really didn't know how to respond to it. Arken hung his head and looked at the dirt road in front of him. He never had any friends in the past, so he didn't know how to act like a friend now. Fynix saw him as a friend, enough so that he wouldn't turn him in to the guards or the Legion. This was a first experience for Arken, and he didn't know how to handle it.

Arken's head came up and he stared straight ahead with a determined look in his eye. It occurred to him that he already knew how to be a friend. It was simply the law of fair dues. One good turn deserves another. Fynix helped him out because he was a friend. It was only fair that Arken do the same. Arken smiled. After all, that's what friends do: they look out for each other. Arken allowed himself another self-satisfied nod as he stood and started back to Wolverine Hall. A mold had been broken today. Arken had broken the mold of being a friendless thief with no one to turn to. For the first time in his life, Arken now knew someone who he could truly call friend. If nothing else in this world was, that was cause enough to smile.


	4. Chapter IV

IV

Arken walked into the Eight Plates tavern and sat down on one of the stools at the bar, waving to the wench to get him a light drink before hanging his head and taking a deep breath. It had been a trying day. Another successful Fighters Guild job had yielded its rewards, but the job he'd just completed for the Thieves Guild had gotten out of hand. Rather then stealing the Dwemer artifacts as planned, the whole thing turned out to be a set up that Arken had to fight his way out of. In addition to being tired, he'd just received word from his Redoran handler that while he'd been promoted within the house, he was also being ordered to cease his thieving for a week while they handled an overly nosy Indoril constable. All in all, the day had been very stressful, and Arken was looking forward to a nice evening of relaxation and a nice soft bed.

Arken took a sip of his drink as a man in leather armor with a low drawn hood sat down on the stool next to him. The man just sat there with his arms on the bar, not ordering a drink or a meal, or even talking to anyone. He just sat there silently, and his presence started making Arken nervous.

Arken canted his head in the man's direction and looked around the room, "Tough looking crowd tonight, huh?" The man simply replied with silence, not even acknowledging that Arken had spoken. Arken frowned. Whoever this guy was, he was kind of creepy and a little too shady.

Finally, the man spoke, "You're Arken Dralkes, of Balmora?"

Arken glanced around the room before leaning over to the man, "How do you know my name? I'm not that well known around here."

Though Arken couldn't see all of his face, he saw the man smile, "You'll find that there is much I know about you, Arken." The man looked around briefly before leaning closer and continuing, "I have a proposition for you. Meet me at the staircase on the north side of this building if you want to hear it." Without another word, the man stood and left the tavern.

Arken sat there, looking down into his drink. It didn't really matter if he had a choice to meet this man or not. The guy knew far too much about him to allow it to go unanswered. One way or another, this guy would have to be dealt with. Arken finished his drink over the next few minutes and dropped a few coins on the bar to pay his tab as he stood to leave. He walked out of the tavern and looked around. The streets were eerily empty. No people, no guards, nothing. A little more than alerted now, Arken cautiously made his way around to the north side of the Eight Plates to find this mysterious hooded man. He came around to the staircase to find the man waiting for him, casually leaning on the stair rail.

The man simply nodded, never revealing his face for the hood's shadow, "I had a feeling you'd take me up on my offer."

Arken crossed his arms, "You were right about that. You seem to know way too much about me, so now I want to know a little about you." Arken took a step closer, "Who are you?"

The man shook his head, "I ask the questions around here, Dunmer." He motioned toward the young Dunmer and suddenly Arken felt the edge of a blade press against the back of his chitin cuirass. A quick check over his shoulders revealed that two men had come up on his flanks and were trapping him.

The hooded man gestured to the men, "I ask the questions, while these two…gentlemen extract the answers from you. I advise you not to struggle, Master Dralkes. That tends to make things…a little messy."

Arken suppressed his mischievous smirk. One of the "gentlemen" the hooded man referred to had made one vital mistake. He'd touched Arken's back with his weapon, inadvertently broadcasting exactly where the weapon was and informing Arken of what options he had to escape this snare. Arken suddenly dropped to a crouch and leaned forward, snapping his leg out to scythe it through the thug's legs. Arken's low kick knocked the thug's feet out from under him and sent him crashing down to the ground. Arken continued his motion in a rising spin in which he landed an uppercut squarely in the other thug's jaw, following it up with a sucker punch to the abdomen and a hard roundhouse kick to the side of the head. That took him out of the fight, but the first thug had scrambled to his feet and was charging Arken with his blade held high. Arken bent forward and snapped his leg straight out, ramming his chitin boot into the thug's gut. Arken turned around with a hard backfist to the side of his head to take the first thug down. He then drew his sword as he turned around to attack the hooded man, but stopped with what he saw next. The hooded man was sitting there applauding slowly.

The man clapped for a moment longer before standing up, "Bravo, Master Dralkes. Well done, indeed. You performed superbly." The man took a few steps toward Arken, but was stopped when Arken put the edge of his sword to his throat.

"Tell me what that was all about or you get a one-way ride to Oblivion."

The man stood there calmly and drew is hood back to expose his face, "Do you really want to know, or would you rather just kill me and be done with it?" Recognizing the veiled request to remove the blade from his neck, Arken cautiously lowered his sword, but didn't sheathe it.

The man stepped into the light, revealing an Imperial face with sunken eyes and short, brown hair, "My name is Artanus Savantus. I was sent here to evaluate your skills. Those two men you just put down single-handedly were trained assassins. In light of your superb performance, I can now extend to you my generous offer."

Arken cocked an eyebrow, "An offer for what?"

Savantus shrugged, "To join the Morag Tong, of course. We've been watching you for quite some time now, and Grandmaster Hlaalu admits that he is impressed with your prowess. He sent me to personally extend an offer to join our number, provided you passed the test, of course." Savantus took a step closer and looked Arken in the eye, "If you wish to join us, then listen well to what I'm about to say, and I will not repeat myself. Go to Vivec, the Arena Canton. Go to the Canalworks and look for a storage room. Inside that storage room, search the rooms within until you find a trap door hidden behind several crates. Knock on it three times, wait three seconds, then knock three times again. The door will open for you. You can figure out the rest on your own." Savantus looked around and pulled his hood up again, "Now I must leave. Consider my offer, Arken Dralkes. We will not speak again unless you join our ranks. Farewell." With his final word said, a green mist spiraled up from Savantus' feet to encompass his body and he vanished.

Arken stood there, still gripping his sword in hand, starring at the empty space Savantus had just been in. Morag Tong? Trained assassins? Watching him? It was a lot to take in all at once. Arken slowly sheathed his sword as he began to understand what had just taken place. He'd heard of the Morag Tong and knew that they were an ancient guild of skilled assassins, followers of Mephalla. What he didn't know was that they'd been watching him and wanted him to join their elite number. It was flattering, to say the least. Arken turned around to find the two men he'd beaten earlier were gone without a trace. These assassins covered their tracks well. Arken nodded slowly as he thought of the concept. Having the support of an ancient guild as influential as the Morag Tong could definitely gain him some much needed clout. Arken smiled to himself as he started out toward his home. It seemed he suddenly had business in Vivec.

------------

Arken looked up at the massive stone structure in front of him. Vivec was the largest city on Vardenfell, but it wasn't built like any normal city. Vivec was constructed entirely on the water of a series of enormous stone cantons that housed their namesakes. There was the Hlaalu Canton, Redoran, St. Olms, St. Delyn, the Temple, and the Foreign Quarter. Arken stood looking at one of the central cantons, the Arena. Within was the large, sandy pit in which regular gladiatorial matches took place. The Arena attracted warriors and fighters from all across Morrowind. Retired soldiers, adventurers looking for a quick score, brawlers who just liked to fight, the Arena drew all kinds to its bloodied sand pit.

What Arken was looking for wasn't in the pit, though. It didn't take him long to get into the canalworks and find the storage room Savantus had told him about. Arken pushed aside a heavy crate to reveal the trap door he was looking for. He knelt down over it and carefully counted three knocks, three seconds, then three more knocks. Not a moment after the third knock, the door's latch clicked and it opened downward. Arken peered down into the door for a moment before cautiously climbing down. He reached the bottom of the ladder and turned around to be facing a large, heavy-set Orc in leather armor.

The Orc looked Arken over once, keeping his hand on the large sword at his side, before speaking, "You are the Dunmer, Arken Dralkes?"

Arken nodded, "I am."

The Orc jerked his head down the thin hallway behind him, "Savantus told us to be expecting you. This way." The Orc turned and started walking down the dimly lit hallway. Still not sure of what to make of all this, Arken followed at a cautious pace. They followed the hallway until they came into an open darkened room with some crates gathered in the corners and a shrine of some sort in a smaller room off to the side. Arken noticed a number of other assassins around the room, most of which had their faces covered and all of which started watching him as soon as he walked in. Arken looked away from them as he followed his Orc guide, sensing their gazes continuing to pursue him as they went into an adjoining hall.

The Orc led Arken down a short hallway with a door at the end. He stopped and knocked quietly, waiting for the door to open after a moment. He led Arken into the room beyond, but stopped at the doorway and motioned to the room's only occupant. Arken found himself in a small chamber that functioned as an office of sorts. A large bed rested against the far wall while an eerily clean desk stood against the closer wall. The room's occupant, an older Dunmer man, was standing in front of a bookshelf along the wall, flipping his way through the shelf one book at a time.

The Dunmer turned around and glanced Arken up and down once before turning back to the bookshelf, "Thank you, Gorek. You can go now." The Orc silently left the room, leaving Arken alone with his host.

The Dunmer spoke without turning around, still looking through books, "Please have a seat, Master Dralkes. I'll just be a moment."

Arken glanced around the darkened room once before responding, "If it's all the same to you, I'll stand. Thanks."

The Dunmer shrugged, "Suit yourself." He finally chose a book from the shelf and turned to face Arken, "Introductions, please. I wish to know more about you."

Arken furrowed his brow, "You first. You seem to know enough about me already."

The Dunmer nodded as he set the book on his desk, "Very bold of you to demand the name of your host. Especially when you know that your host is surrounded by trained killers who would not hesitate to eliminate you should he deem it necessary. I would say you're either very brave or very foolish."

Arken shrugged, "Pick one."

The Dunmer held up a finger and turned to face him, "And that, Master Dralkes, is what so intrigues me about you. You're so defiant, not afraid to stand up to anyone, no matter the consequences. It takes a man of particular character to do that." He folded his hands behind him, "My name is Eno Hlaalu, grandmaster of the Morag Tong. I've been watching you for quite some time. I must say your skills are most impressive, which has led to the proposal my messenger extended to you. I assume by your presence, that you wish to take me up on the offer."

Arken crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him, "I want to get something straight, first of all: I'm no daedra worshipper. If I join this guild, I'm not going to go kowtowing to some statue or shrine or whatever. My destiny is what I make of it; not the divines, and not the daedra."

Hlaalu nodded understandingly, "Master Dralkes, I believe you'd be surprised at how many of our number are not followers of Mephalla. Many join our ranks for the money, not the worship. Mephalla is merely our patron, the daedra that best embodies what we believe and how we act. No matter what your reason for joining is, the writs are legal and the money is good." He crossed his arms as he looked at Arken, "So, will you join us?"

Arken stared at the wall in front of him as he thought. It was good money, it could keep his skills sharp, and he didn't have to go following the daedra lovers. All in all, it looked like pros outweighed the cons.

Arken looked at the grandmaster and smiled, "When do I start?"

Hlaalu nodded, "Immediately. I have one more test to prove your mettle. I want to see just how capable you are of killing." He turned around and picked up a small scroll from his desk, "There is a man presently in the St. Olms canton. His name is Emil Rosteric. He is marked for death. You will take this writ of execution and carry it out upon Rosteric." He walked over to Arken and handed him the scroll.

Arken took the scroll and unrolled it to read, "Why is he marked?"

Hlaalu waved away the question, "That's of no concern to you. Mephalla may have marked him or a client may have. It doesn't matter to you."

Arken looked up from the scroll to Hlaalu with a hard stare, "Why is he marked?" He repeated the question with more enunciation for emphasis.

The grandmaster looked at Arken for a moment before nodding briefly, "Redoran contract. He's an Indoril constable that's been poking his nose into their private affairs. They want him dealt with."

Arken's head came up at hearing who the target was, "He's…an Indoril constable? Investigating the Redoran?"

Hlaalu simply nodded, "Yes, Indoril. Is something wrong with that?"

Arken had a hard time suppressing his smile, "No, no. Nothing's wrong." The smirk finally worked its way to his face, "Nothing's wrong with that at all." He rolled up the parchment and secured it to his belt, "I'll be back soon." Without another word, Arken turned and walked out of the room, Hlaalu watching him as he shut the door behind him.

Once he was sure that Arken was gone, Hlaalu looked at the darkest corner of his chamber and nodded, "It's clear."

Two men stepped out of the shadows of the chamber. One was Artanus Savantus, and with him was another assassin.

Hlaalu nodded toward the door, "He's on his way. I want you in place to observe him, Savantus."

Savantus nodded as he pulled his gloves on, "Dralkes is a perfect candidate to join the tong, grandmaster. Are you sure he really needs watching?"

Hlaalu nodded in response, "The Morag Tong does a different kind of killing then the common adventurer or Fighters Guildsman, Savantus. If Dralkes is not up to it, I want you two to bring him back so he can be properly…dealt with."

The other assassin, a blond haired Imperial with green eyes, scoffed, "Somehow, I doubt we'll need to do that. This 'Dralkes' kid seems like he could muster the will to kill. I'd personally like to see what he's made of."

Hlaalu shook his head, "You can keep that idea for another time, Krayven. Though I am quite confident that Dralkes will succeed, we must be prepared if the worst should happen." He looked at his men, "You both know your duties, so get to it." Both men disappeared into the shadows of the chamber. Now it was time to see just what Dralkes could do.

Arken found his step surprisingly light as he left the Morag Tong hall and the Arena Canton to make his way to St. Olms, pondering the possibilities as he went. If this particular Indoril constable was the one that was causing the Redoran to suspend him, then he was about to get paid to eliminate the source of his problems. He smiled in appreciation of the ironic twist of it all.

Arken arrived in the St Olms Canton and immediately went to work looking for this Emil Rosteric. After a little snooping around and dropping a little coin in the hands of some of the locals, Arken learned that Rosteric lived in Suran, but was presently on holiday in Vivec perusing through the Waistworks of the St. Olms Canton.

Arken walked through the door into the waistworks and looked around. With a name like Emil Rosteric, he was probably a Breton, which helped narrow his search, but not by much. The waistworks were busy today. People of all races and occupations were walking through the area, transacting business at the local shops, or just milling around aimlessly. Arken moved through the crowd, trying to blend in while he looked for his target. He searched for nearly half an hour before he identified the one who was likely the mark. The St. Olms quarter was more of a lower/middle class area, which meant it was rare to find someone who dressed like a wealthy aristocrat. Arken eyed a well-dressed Breton adorned in expensive silk clothes and a fine leather overcoat, casually cruising through the shops. He was about mid-to-late forties with graying brown hair. He wore a large silver amulet hanging from his neck, possibly a symbol of his station as a constable. He stopped at a food vendor to look over the items on display. Arken came up next to him, pretending to look at the goods, but eyeing the man warily. At this point, there was only one way to find out if he was right.

Arken looked at the man out of the corner of his eye, "You're Emil Rosteric?"

The man's head came up and he looked at Arken, "Yes, I'm Emil Rosteric. Why do you ask?"

Arken shook his head, "That's not important." He picked up a large fruit from the vendor and started looking it over as he spoke, "If you don't mind my asking, you're currently conducting an investigation of House Redoran, am I right?"

Rosteric nodded, "Yes, I am. That's right."

Arken nodded as he looked the fruit over, "And, if I may ask, what did you turn up?"

Rosteric shrugged, "I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in telling you. I've discovered some very interesting things. I've found evidence that the Redoran are harboring a thief that they employ to steal goods from the other great houses. His name escapes me at the moment, but I know the thief is a younger Dunmer."

Arken suppressed a cringe as he continued, "And I assume you're going to take your findings to the Indoril house council?"

Rosteric shook his head, "Actually, I intend to bring this information directly to the Duke of Vardenfell once I have something solid."

Arken nodded again as he set the fruit down and looked at Rosteric, "Then it may interest you to know that I have information regarding your search."

Rosteric's eyes widened when he heard, "Well, out with it, man. I'd appreciate some help in my investigation."

Arken shook his head, "Not here. Outside. Fewer people to hear us. Follow me." Rosteric eagerly took the bait as he followed Arken out of the waistworks and into the afternoon sun on the outer walkway, where there were no witnesses.

Arken brought him to one corner of the canton before Rosteric spoke up again, "This should be private enough. Now, what do you know about my investigation?"

Arken stopped walking with his back to Rosteric, "It's a piece of very important information." In one flowing blur, Arken drew his sword and turned around to jam the blade half way to the hilt into Rosteric's gut all in the same motion.

Arken leaned close to Rosteric's face and smirked, "I'm the Redoran thief."

Rosteric's eyes widened with the surprise and he coughed up a wad of blood before falling limp to the ground. Arken slid the body off his sword and shook the blood off before returning it to its sheath. He knelt down over Rosteric's body and yanked the large silver amulet off his neck. Hlaalu might want proof that the deed was done, although Arken was certain that a Morag Tong agent would've already informed him. He stood and started heading back to the Arena Canton, putting some distance between him and the dead constable before the Ordinators found him. When he arrived, the trap door opened for him before he knocked and he was immediately shown in to Hlaalu's chambers.

Gorek ushered Arken into the room and closed the door behind him. This time, the room was occupied not only by Hlaalu, but a young and good-looking Imperial with green eyes and long blond hair tied into a ponytail that rested on his right shoulder. He was adorned in a thicker variant of the leather armor the Morag Tong favored and had a large Elven claymore secured to his back. The Imperial was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Hlaalu turned to Arken and nodded, "Well done, Master Dralkes. You eliminated the mark discreetly and without hesitation. Well done indeed."

Arken pulled the silver amulet from his pocket and tossed it to Hlaalu, "So I take it you don't need this then?"

Hlaalu caught the amulet and looked at it, raising his eyebrows as he examined it, "No, but having some proof never hurts." He walked to his desk, where he set the amulet down and pushed a large sack with a rolled parchment over to Arken, "Your payment for a job well done, and your copy of our creed. Study it well; I expect you to know its tenets from memory." He motioned to the Imperial in the room, "This young man is Krayven Harkonus. He's been a brother of the tong for about three years now. You'll be working with him. He will instruct you in our ways of going about business and will help you accomplish your contracts, if need be."

Krayven stood up and offered his hand, tossing his ponytail off his shoulder with a shake of his head, "I look forward to seeing what you're made of, Dralkes." Arken shook Krayven's hand, but something about the Imperial just didn't quite sit right; something Arken couldn't quite put his finger on. Arken left Vivec that day with a pouch full of money and a sore spot on his left forearm where he'd received a tattoo that the Morag Tong used to identify one another. Not only was he now a member of one of the most ancient and influential guilds in Morrowind, but he'd just been paid to kill the source of his suspension from the Redoran. All in all, it was clear that things were looking up.

Arken stopped and looked out at the view of the land from the top level of the Foreign Quarter. He took in the amazing vista under the setting sun and just shook his head. Among the lands of Tamriel, Morrowind was a land that had more than its fair share of mysteries. He'd become part of one of those mysteries today. Some of those mysteries could be glorious wonders, or they could be life threatening dangers. One thing was clear, though. By the way more of these mysteries kept popping up every day, no one could solve them all in one lifetime.

Arken smiled as he turned and headed to the Mage's Guild. He did enjoy a good challenge.


	5. Chapter V

V

Arken stepped out of the Ald'Ruhn Mages Guild into the early afternoon sun, raising his arm to shield his eyes. He turned to walk down the main street to the dominant feature of the small town. The Skar Hall wouldn't have been that unusual as far as large buildings went, except for the fact that the entire structure was not built at all. It was an enormous chitin shell left by some ancient gigantic crustacean many ages ago. It held up well to the frequent sand storms that blew through the West Gash Region and even served as a decent shelter from blight storms. It was also the location of the Redoran hall, where all the house nobles and hierarchy lived. Arken's interest in the place was an appointment with one of those nobles, the House Lord who only went by the name Lord Redoran, as many of the noble-born elders did. He was Arken's sponsor on the house council, the lord of all House Redoran, and the man who he was reporting to on his most recent job.

Being admitted into Skar wasn't a problem. Waiting for Lord Redoran to see him was, since the man was understandably very busy. Arken was standing in the House Redoran hall in Skar wearing his chitin armor, waiting to be admitted into the chamber. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and the domo stepped out.

"The lord will see you, Master Dralkes." Arken nodded to him as he stepped through the door into a large and lavishly decorated stateroom. Standing further back into the room was an older Dunmer man, well into his third century, adorned in the long and extravagant robes of a nobleman.

He noticed Arken as he walked in and motioned him further into the room, "Ah, Master Dralkes. Please, come in, come in."

Arken did as he was bidden and stood before the lord, regarding him with a shallow bow, "Lord Redoran."

The lord set a scroll he was reading down on a desk and turned his attention to Arken, "I assume by your presence that the task is complete."

Arken nodded, "Yes, ma'serjio. I've convinced the merchants you specified to sign on with the new trade commission. Also the Hlaalu official you mentioned has been…'deprived' of those finance records you wanted." Arken handed the lord a small scroll with a Hlaalu seal stamped on it.

Lord Redoran accepted the scroll, "Excellent. You have proven yourself once again, Master Dralkes." He turned toward his desk and started sifting through some parchments, "You have done well for yourself in the short time you have been with the House, Master Dralkes. It's not often we find a young man of your talents."

"I seek only to better myself and the Great House Redoran, milord." Arken suppressed a cringe. The only thing he hated more than taking orders was schmoozing.

"I have no doubt." He pulled out a particular parchment and glanced it over, "I believe it is overdue that we recognized your many accomplishments for the House." He turned and handed Arken the scroll and a sizable pouch of gold, "By this order, I have secured your appointment to Lawman in House Redoran and reward you with this stipend."

Arken accepted both items and bowed, "Milord is most generous."

"Father."

Lord Redoran was about to comment when his attention turned to the young Dunmer woman who just entered the room.

"I found the book you were looking for."

Lord Redoran accepted a large volume from the girl, "Ah, yes. This is it. Thank you, my dear." She gave a big smile as her father kissed her on the cheek.

Arken nearly had to make a physical effort not to stare. He was looking at what he was sure was the most beautiful Dark Elf woman he'd ever seen. She had long black hair in a ponytail that hung to her lower shoulder blades and eyes that sparkled like garnet gems. She was a very attractive young woman, without a doubt. Either she saw through Arken's attempts not to gawk, or noticed him of her own accord, but either way, the young woman's attentions found Arken.

"Oh. Father, who might this handsome young gentleman be?"

"I don't believe you've met our most recent Lawman yet." He motioned toward Arken, "Merrenda, this is Arken Dralkes, Lawman of House Redoran. Master Dralkes, this is my lovely daughter, Merrenda Redoran."

She blushed and shrank away from Lord Redoran, "Father, please. You're embarrassing me." In spite of her father, Merrenda followed protocol and extended her hand to Arken

Arken came to his senses when he realized he was being addressed, "The pleasure of this meeting is entirely mine, milady." He bowed, accepting her hand and kissing it, winning a little giggle from her, "And if I may be so bold to say that the lady's beauty knows no bounds."

Merrenda retracted her hand, "Well, you are quite the charmer, aren't you, Master Dralkes?"

Arken raised his brow, "Merely stating the truth, milady." He looked at Lord Redoran, "Perhaps the lord might permit me to grace his lovely daughter with a gift, a small token from a humble lawman."

Lord Redoran looked between the two briefly, "Well, by all means, Master Dralkes."

Arken nodded and held his hands in front of him. He showed both sides before briefly brushing his palms together and a glittering star-cut emerald appearing in his fingers.

He handed the gem to Merrenda, "A small token, milady, though I will say its beauty is paled in comparison to your own."

Merrenda's eyes widened as she accepted the emerald, "Why, thank you, Master Dralkes."

Arken nodded to her, "Again, the pleasure is mine, milady." He looked at Lord Redoran again, "Sadly, I have pressing business of my own I must attend to. With the lord's permission, I'll take my leave."

Lord Redoran thought for a moment, "Very well. But please remain available. I shall have something for you soon."

Arken bowed to them both, "Thank you, milord, milady." He turned and left the stateroom. Merrenda's gaze followed him through the door before she looked back at the emerald Arken had given her.

Lord Redoran broke the hanging silence in the air as he turned back toward his desk, "He is quite an interesting man. Wouldn't you say, my dear?"

Merrenda's eyes went misty, "He is. He's very interesting, and quite charming."

The lord regarded her out of the corner of his eye, "I hope not _too_ charming."

Merrenda rolled her eyes, "Father, I simply said that he's a charming young man. What harm is there in that?"

"A great deal. I know you, Merrenda. I know how you disagree with the old traditions. I've said it once; I've said it a hundred times: you cannot marry outside of your position of kinswoman noble to the House."

Merrenda slipped the gem into her pocket, "I still don't see why marriage must be dictated by politics and protocol rather than love."

Lord Redoran sat down at his desk, "Some of us have to make sacrifices so our ways may live on. We all have our places in this world, Merrenda."

She turned to look at her father, "Were you happy in your place when politics forced you to marry mother?"

The lord stopped what he was doing and hung his head slightly. He turned his seat to look at her.

"I found happiness. I grew to love your mother, and you and I both know she would say the same about me. It wasn't easy, but we worked with what we had. Today, I wouldn't give up my relationship with your mother for all the wealth of Tamriel." He stood and walked to his daughter, taking her hands in his, "My dear, you were born into a world of wealth and comfort. As your father, I want you to have the best I can give you. This world of luxury _is_ the best I can give you, but it has its price. All I ask is that you accept that price, please."

Merrenda looked up and met her father's gaze, "Somehow, father, all the wealth and splendor of Morrowind would seem vain if I couldn't enjoy it with a man that I love."

Lord Redoran breathed a heavy sigh, "Once again, we'll just have to agree to disagree. Now run along, dear. You have duties in the library to attend to."

Merrenda nodded somberly, "Yes, father." She kissed her father's cheek before turning to walk out of the room. Lord Redoran watched her leave, shaking his head and wondering if he would ever get through to her.

Arken walked out of the Skar hall and stopped in the middle of the sandy plaza to think for a moment. He'd just handed a five-hundred drake gemstone to a young woman he'd only just met. He shook his head for a moment, wondering what in Dagoth's name would possess him to do that. He looked back at the enormous building as he continued walking back to the Mages Guild, thinking idly about the pretty young Dunmer girl he'd just met, Merrenda. Arken never really considered himself a ladies' man, so why in blazes would he go out of his way to be so charming for this young woman? He did admit that she was very attractive, but so where a number of other women that he worked with in the Thieves Guild and Morag Tong. What made her so special? Arken shrugged it all off as he stepped into the Mages Guild and paid for transport back to Balmora. He had other jobs to do right now, so thinking about this could wait until later.

Arken arrived in Balmora and headed to his home, where he would get the scoop on his next job from Ra'Jharra. He pushed the door open and made his way to the table. A map of the town of Molag Mar was laid out on it with several colored arrows and lines indicating points of infiltration. Arken hadn't been part of the Morag Tong long before he petitioned Grandmaster Hlaalu to allow Ra'Jharra to join up also. It was an opportunity for the Khajiit to put to use all that Arken had taught him about blade craft. Ra'Jharra was assigned as Arken's ward for the time being, learning the ropes and the ways of going about the tong's business. Krayven Harkonus was still his partner, and the two frequently pulled off difficult assignments together. The pair was starting to get something of a reputation for being unstoppable within the tong. With his characteristic efficiency, Arken had done very well for himself during his years with the assassins' guild. His usual modus operandi these days was to accept a mark from the Morag Tong, and while he's in the area investigating and eliminating the target, he takes a little time out to pilfer a few valuables from the locals that he can sell to Thieves Guild fences. He would fill in his down times with the occasional Fighters Guild contract. It was a plan that was more than just a little lucrative, and Arken was becoming quite a wealthy man for it.

Arken leaned over to put his hands on the table to study the map as Ra'Jharra came down the stairs, "That is all that I could find while investigating the area. Molag Mar is a large stone canton like those in Vivec. The place is almost a fortress. However, there are several points of entry that could be taken advantage of."

Arken nodded absently, "Not many good options. Some are just downright risky."

Ra'Jharra nodded as he looked at the map, "Risky, but well worth it. The mark lives on the third level, and there are several well-stocked shops along the way."

Arken simply nodded as he looked at the map. It was worthwhile to look into some of these plans, risky though they may be.

"Something's bothering you."

Arken finally looked up from the map to his Khajiit servant, "What makes you say that?"

Ra'j shrugged, "You seem somewhat distracted, like you're thinking about something else. Did everything go alright with Lord Redoran?"

Arken shrugged in return, "Yeah, everything's fine. In fact, I was just promoted, so everything's great right now."

The Khajiit shook his head, "There's more than meets the eye here. You're holding something back. I can tell." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him, "I haven't been your servant for these last ten years and learned nothing about you. I can tell that you're not being entirely forthcoming with me."

Arken shrugged and shook his head, "There's nothing to hold back, Ra'j. I mean, yeah, I am thinking about something, but…" Arken paused and chewed his lower lip for a moment as he thought of how to phrase his response, "It's…It's nothing that important." He motioned to the map, "Now, if you don't mind, we've got to find a way into this place that attracts the least attention."

Ra'Jharra smiled in a big, carnivorous grin, "I should have recognized it sooner." He leaned forward slightly, "It's a woman, isn't it?"

Arken's eyes became as big as saucers, "What? No! What makes you…I-I mean…" He trailed off and his shoulders sagged, "Yes, I did meet Lord Redoran's daughter, Merrenda, today and, yes, I do think she's attractive, but that's where it ends, Ra'j."

Ra'Jharra's shoulders bounced up and down in a hearty chuckle, "You can keep telling yourself that, but you're smitten over her. I can tell."

Arken looked at him and scoffed, "Smitten? Hardly." He stared hard at the map for a long moment before looking at Ra'Jharra again, "Why? Am I acting smitten?"

Ra'Jharra shrugged and started looking around the room as he spoke, "You were very forthcoming with her name, even though I didn't ask for it. And you're extremely defensive right now, almost like you're in denial."

Arken's face hardened and he turned to head for the door, "Just get a plan together and gather the travel supplies." He nearly slammed the door on his way out. Arken huffed as he strode across the bridge to the other half of town, but he couldn't help but think about it at this point. Was he smitten over this girl? He'd never even had a boyhood crush when he was young, so he wouldn't know how to recognize the feeling. His childhood didn't lend itself to such frivolous activities as relationships. Simple survival was almost always on the forefront of his mind, and members of the opposite gender were viewed either as allies to help him or enemies to hinder him like everyone else.

Arken stopped in the middle of the bridge and crouched down to look into the water running beneath. He had already admitted to himself that he thought Merrenda was attractive, but it seemed that there was a little more than that. He felt his heart flutter every time he thought about her. He had hidden it well at the time, but he turned into a bundle of jittery nerves when she offered him her hand. Arken stared hard at his reflection in the water. He'd been breaking molds of the common thief since he'd come to Morrowind. Fynix had broken the "friendless" mold. Was this another mold to be broken? Could it be possible? Could a thief actually find love? Arken shook his head. Unfortunately, he didn't have the answer to those questions.

Arken stood and started toward the Mages Guild again. He had to talk about this, get it off his chest, but he wanted to talk only to someone he trusted. Besides Ra'Jharra, there was only one other person in all of Tamriel who held Arken's trust. He entered the guild hall and paid the guild guide for transport to Sadrith Mora. Fynix was only three years older than Arken, but it only took mere moments to learn a lesson that could help the rest of your life. Arken made his way from Wolverine Hall into the town proper of Sadrith Mora, where he moved to find Fynix's house. As always, he knocked and Fynix shouted through the door to come in. Arken went back through the mushroom shaped house to find Fynix back in his spacious little library, organizing his myriad of books.

Fynix looked at Arken briefly as he used a telekinesis spell to place a book on a higher shelf out of reach, "Hello, Arken. What brings you to my humble little hole?"

Arken leaned on a bookshelf, but stood up again suddenly when it shifted under his weight, "I have a stupid question for you, Nix, but it does have some relevance. Have you ever dated much?"

Fynix's head snapped around to Arken and he scrambled to catch the book he'd dropped while levitating it to a higher shelf, "Well, I must say, when you said you had a stupid question, I wasn't quite expecting that. Why do you ask?"

Arken shrugged as he leaned against a sturdier bookshelf, "No reason."

Fynix just stood there, holding several books and working his jaw from side to side as he thought of an answer, "Well, I…hmm…I'm not really sure how to answer that for you." He set the books down and sat down in a chair, "I think the best way I can say it is that I do believe there is someone out there for everyone. It's all a matter of keeping your eyes open and being patient." He thought for a moment before looking at Arken warily, "You've met someone, haven't you? You wouldn't be asking this if you hadn't."

Arken shrugged and ran a hand back through his matte black hair, "Well…Yeah, I've met someone. Just met her today. Her name's Merrenda Redoran."

Fynix's eyes widened, "A Great House Princess. You like to set your sights good and high, don't you."

Arken shook his head, "Her position doesn't really matter at this point, Fynix. Just who she is matters."

Fynix canted his head and furrowed his brow, "Care to run that by me again?"

Arken walked over and sat in the seat across from Fynix, settling in for a lengthy conversation, "I had a feeling you wouldn't understand right away. I'll break it down for you: I meet a pretty and well-mannered young woman about my age. She takes a shine to me after a while, but sooner or later the dirty laundry is bound to come out."

Fynix nodded as he began piecing it together, "Eventually, she finds out that you're a thief."

"Among other things, yes." He tapped his finger on his left forearm in reference to the tattoo beneath the gauntlet. Fynix was properly aware of Arken's affiliations with the Morag Tong, "As soon as she finds out about all that, she's gone like yesterday." He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck, "It's more of a question of 'can a thief have that kind of love?'. I've never really seen myself as the fit in and settle down type."

Fynix sat back in his seat and crossed his legs, "Ark, I just said that there's someone out there for everyone." He pointed at him, "Even you. I'm happy for you that you've met someone, Arken. If this whole thing works out for you, I'll be positively ecstatic for you. If not, then I'll be there for you in the end. That's what friends do. But you're never going to find out what's in the cupboard if you don't open the door. All I can tell you is to pursue the relationship properly. When the time does come, then tell her what she needs to know and let her make her own judgment about you." Fynix shrugged, "The way I see it, if she stays with you even with the skeletons in the closet, then that proves that she's a girl worth holding on to." He chuckled lightly, "Besides, if you're a thief, then who better to steal a woman's heart?"

Arken rubbed his chin as he thought about what Fynix had said. He finally had to admit that he was right about one thing: he wasn't going to find out if he didn't try. Arken never really had shied away from taking risks, and it appeared that it was time to take another.

He looked at Fynix and nodded, "Thanks, Nix. For everything."

Fynix waved the comment away, "It's the least I can do for a friend." He looked around the library and stood up, "I don't mean to shoo you away, but I've got to get this mess cleaned up or I'll never hear the end of it from my mother next time she visits. I'll be over in Balmora some time next week. We ought to get together sometime, have some fun."

Arken nodded as he stood up, "You don't need to tell me twice to have fun. I'll see you around, Nix." Arken left Fynix's house and walked slowly back to Wolverine Hall. Maybe, just maybe, even a thief could find love. But he would never know if he didn't try. Arken thought for a moment, wondering when he'd be up in Ald'Ruhn next. It wouldn't be too long, maybe even sooner if Lord Redoran sent for him before then. Arken allowed himself a self-satisfied nod as he pushed through the door into the Mages Guild hall. The days were soon coming that this particular thief was about to redefine who he was.

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Arken looked around the corner down a row of bookshelves in the Redoran library, where he spied his objective. With Merrenda's position as Lord Redoran's daughter, what few duties she had included managing the attendants in the library, making sure everything was tidy and orderly. Arken had taken the better part of two days to work up the nerve to ask Merrenda to dinner. He'd done his best to make himself presentable for the occasion, but the weather patterns of the West Gash Region had other ideas. Fortunately, he'd managed to remove the majority of the dust the sand storm outside had deposited on his clothes before he arrived at the library. Arken swallowed the lump in his throat as he rounded the corner and approached Merrenda from behind. It was only now that Arken noticed that she was about half a head shorter than he was. She was giving orders to a pair of attendants, both of which bowed to her as they departed.

Arken cleared his throat before speaking, "Milady Redoran?"

Merrenda turned around and smiled brightly when she saw who it was, "Oh. Hello, Master Dralkes."

Arken shook his head, "Please, milady, I prefer just 'Arken'."

She nodded in response, "In that case, I also prefer just 'Merrenda'. Call me 'Lady Redoran' too many times and my head might start to swell." She glanced over at the attendants briefly before returning her attention to Arken, "Did you need something?"

Arken cleared his throat again quietly before continuing, "Actually, I was wondering if you were available for dinner tomorrow evening. Just a casual dinner."

Merrenda hung her head and rocked back on her heels once, "Well, I…I'm sorry, but I'm busy tomorrow evening. I have a mandatory attendance at the Redoran House Ball tomorrow. I'd never hear the end of it from my father if I didn't attend."

Arken refrained from showing his disappointment as he gave a resigned nod, "I understand if you're busy."

Merrenda tapped her lower lip with one finger for a moment before she spoke again, "Actually, that might work out after all." She looked at Arken, "How would you like an invitation to the ball?"

Even as disciplined as he was, Arken's head visibly jerked backward in surprise, "What? To the House Ball?"

Merrenda nodded, "Of course. It's the most formal event of the house. Lots of Redoran dignitaries from all over Morrowind will be there. As a Lawman, I'm surprised you didn't already receive an invitation." She looked over at one of the servants and snapped her fingers twice to call him over, "Get me an invitation to the House Ball tomorrow, please."

Arken watched the servant hurry off and looked at Merrenda, "Just how formal is the Redoran House Ball?"

Merrenda shrugged, "Rather. It all depends on how many people in high places you want to impress. Mind your manners and follow appropriate protocols and you can make some rather influential friends. Just mind how you behave and you'll have nothing to worry about."

Arken nodded, "So you really want to invite me to the most formal event in all of House Redoran?"

Merrenda smiled and waved away his comment, "I'm sure you'll do fine, Arken." The servant arrived at her side and bowed as he presented a piece of fine parchment with emblazoned lettering.

Merrenda accepted the invitation and handed it to Arken, "There you are: a formal invitation to the Redoran House Ball."

Arken carefully accepted the invitation and nodded to Merrenda, "I appreciate the generous offer, milady."

Merrenda smiled and nodded to him, "It's my pleasure." One of the attendants called to her from another row in the library and she turned to respond, "I'll be right there." She turned back to Arken, "Well, duty calls. I hope to see you there, Master Dralkes."

Arken bowed in return, "I'll see to it you won't be disappointed, milady." With a smile and a parting wave, Merrenda turned to go deal with the issue at hand. Arken wandered out of the Skar hall in a haze. It wasn't quite what he was expecting, but the intended goal would be met nonetheless. The setting would be far more formal than he wanted, but he would get to spend some time with Merrenda.

Arken made his way out into the streets of Ald'Ruhn when his haze was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find, instead of a person, a nearly-transparent chameleon shadowform standing behind him. The shadow pulled back its left sleeve, revealing some bare flesh that bore the Mark of the Morag Tong. Arken immediately removed his left gauntlet to show his own mark in response. The shadowed messenger silently handed Arken a folded piece of paper before vanishing into a nearby alley. Arken was very familiar with Morag Tong couriers. The tong preferred to keep much of its activities confidential, especially communication amongst its members.

Arken opened the note and read it through. It was from Artanus Savantus, the man who'd extended his invitation to join the Morag Tong several years ago. The message was rather brief, saying only that the matter was urgent and that Arken needed to meet him in Suran as soon as he was able. Since he didn't have anything planned until tomorrow evening, Arken went immediately to the silt strider platform and paid the transport price, plus an extra sum to convince the strider master to make a special trip. The ride was little more than a few hours and Arken soon found himself disembarking the silt strider at the little mountain town of Suran. Suran was a small town carved into the side of a mountain that overlooked a vast river. Arken located a tong contact and learned that Savantus was presently in the house of a local slave trader. He went to the house to find the door open. As a thief, Arken never really had much compunction about inviting himself in, so he stepped through the door to look for Savantus. He finally found the elusive Imperial in an upstairs sitting room, crouched over a dead body.

Arken walked up next to him, "What was so urgent?"

Savantus pulled his hood back and nodded to the body in front of him, "He was the local slave lord. He was marked by the tong, but as you can see, this is a radical departure from our standard execution."

Arken looked the body over and agreed. The body was an older Dunmer, probably third or fourth century, dressed in clothing that spoke of wealth. At least it would have if it wasn't soaked in blood. The body was covered in various slashes and stab wounds and was resting in a wide pool of blood.

Savantus continued staring at the body, "He was butchered like an animal. The creed states that the mark must be eliminated quickly and cleanly. This mess can't get much sloppier."

Arken crouched down next to Savantus, "Are you sure it's one of us who killed him?"

Savantus nodded, "His writ of execution disappeared yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, whoever took the writ didn't sign off for it like they were supposed to." He ran his index finger through the blood on the floor and waved it under his nose, "He was probably bled slowly. The blood's at least a day old."

Arken shook his head, "I don't think it was bleeding that killed him."

Savantus finally looked at him, "What makes you say that?"

The young Dunmer motioned to the body as he spoke, "Well, the large gash across the chest was probably the killing blow. Judging by how thin it is, it was probably a very quick and strong slash with a very sharp blade. It's unusual because the rest of the cuts on the body are in nonessential areas, places with no major blood vessels or nerves or anything. Some of them are over pressure points, but that won't kill you unless you good and deep. They're all small and nonessential, but probably very painful."

Savantus nodded and looked back at the body, "Are you saying he was tortured before he was killed?"

Arken shrugged, "That's what it looks like."

Savantus was silent for a moment before he looked at Arken again, "But who would do this? The creed forbids torture."

Arken thought for a moment before answering, "Well, we do know that, whoever they are, they don't want anyone else to know who they are. Otherwise they would've signed off on the writ like they were supposed to." He stood up and looked down at Savantus, "Unless we can figure out who has the writ, then we've got nothing to go on."

Savantus nodded before standing up himself, "I have to inform Grandmaster Hlaalu. He's not going to be happy about this." He turned to leave, but stopped and looked at Arken, "Keep an eye out for any more of these torture deaths. I'll see if I can turn something up before you do."

Arken nodded, "Consider it done. Good hunting."

Savantus turned to leave, "Good hunting."

Arken looked at the slashed and bloody body as Savantus left the house. Savantus' question was a good one. Who would do this? More importantly, why? There was nothing to be gained in sadistic torture, not unless you're some kind of demented freak. Arken shook his head as he turned to leave. No person deserved to be butchered like cattle.

That thought stopped Arken in his tracks as he closed the door of the house behind him. It just now occurred to him that he was actually doing something because it was the right thing to do. There was no reward in this investigation. Arken was doing this just because it was wrong. He thought about it for a moment longer. It was just like how he'd freed Ra'Jharra ten years ago. There was no reward for freeing slaves. In fact it was illegal in Morrowind. Arken only did it because no one deserved a life of forced servitude. Arken breathed a deep sigh as he came to a stark realization. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, somewhere deep down inside him there was a sense of morality guiding his choices. And no matter how much evidence to the contrary, he was a good man deep inside. He shrugged it all off. Thief or not, someone had to pay for torturing that man before killing him, and Arken intended to find out who it was.


	6. Chapter VI

VI

Arken stepped through the large doors into the House Redoran Great Hall, immediately taking in the elegant if not stiff scene in a quick glance. He was wearing a fine and rather expensive outfit that he'd actually purchased rather than pilfered. He wore a matched set of dark blue silk shirt and pants with fine netch leather boots and belt. He topped off the ensemble with a black fine cotton cloak draped over his left shoulder, concealing his sword beneath it. He handed the servant his invitation and proceeded into the room, but didn't get two steps before being intercepted by a trio of guards in some uncharacteristically spiffy looking bonemold armor.

The guard captain nodded to him, "Any weapons, sir?" Arken responded silently by drawing back his cloak to reveal his sword.

The Dunmer guard reached for the weapon, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to…"

Arken grabbed his wrist before he could touch it, "The blade stays."

The guard's face hardened, "I will remind you, milord, that weapons are not permitted within the hall during the festivities."

"And I will remind you that the blade stays. A man in my position doesn't leave his personal safety to chance."

The captain jerked his hand from Arken's grip and rested it on his own sword, "Your 'personal safety' is getting in the way of my job, sir. I will ask you one more time: please remove…"

"It's alright, Sorek." Merrenda walked through the group of guards and stood before Arken, "He's fine with his weapon. Return to your post."

"As you wish, milady." The guard saluted smartly and all three left for their respective posts, leaving Arken alone with Merrenda.

Merrenda smiled brightly at Arken, "I'm happy to see that you took me up on my offer, Master Dralkes."

Arken returned her smile, "I told you I wouldn't disappoint you. I'm a man of my honor. If I make a promise, I keep it."

Merrenda nodded lightly, "Now I'm starting to understand why father likes you so much." She looked back at the crowd down the stairs briefly, "Shall we?"

Arken offered his arm, "As you wish, milady." Merrenda took his arm and both descended the stairs to mingle. Lord Redoran extended a warm welcome to Arken and he recognized a few of the various delegates he'd dealt with on his way up the ranks.

Arken and Merrenda took some drinks from a passing platter before she spoke up again, "So, what do you think?"

Arken looked around briefly and then back at her before answering, "Well, I can't say as I like it, but the pleasant company makes up for that."

Merrenda looked away to hide her blush, "I do hope you're not trying to flatter me, Arken."

Arken looked down at her, "Merely stating the truth, milady."

She looked around the room, "I can understand if you're not a man of formalities. I'm not too keen on it myself, but 'position has its price' as father always says. Sometimes you just have to tolerate it."

"_Shadowstep._"

Arken's head whipped around when he heard his Morag Tong name whispered in the air. His gaze panned across the room until he noticed a faint shadow cast on the wall in a corner. Arken furrowed his brow because it was a shape he recognized all too well.

Arken carefully freed his arm from Merrenda's grasp, "Excuse me, milady. I thought I saw someone I recognized. I'll return in a moment." He weaved his way through the crowd until he came to one corner of the room with a large plant in it that was cast in a little more shadow than the rest of the room.

Arken turned around to face the crowd and spoke in a low whisper, "How did you get in here?"

Savantus leaned out from behind the plant, still transparent thanks to his invisibility spell, "It's easy to overlook something you can't see, Arken. I wanted to let you know I've done some digging on who killed the slave lord and I've got some leads to run down. There's one I want you to look into."

Arken nodded subtly, "Who is it?"

He heard Savantus breathe an apprehensive sigh behind him, "You're not going to like it. I need you to check up on your partner, Krayven, for me."

Arken looked back at the Imperial over his shoulder, "Krayven? He'd never do something like this."

Savantus' shadow shook its head, "We don't know that, Arken. Krayven's been acting a little suspicious lately, like he's hiding something. If nothing else, we need to eliminate him as a suspect."

Arken worked his jaw around for a moment before responding, "Alright. I'll talk to him next time I see him, and see if I can search his quarters."

Savantus nodded, "Don't ask him anything direct. If Krayven's our guy, then direct questions will spook him and all our leads will disappear. I'll trust you to use your judgment. Good hunting."

Arken nodded, "Good hunting." Once he was assured that Savantus was gone, he glanced across the crowd until he located Merrenda talking to a couple of Imperial dignitaries. He quickly moved through the crowd to rejoin her, since he was her escort for the evening and didn't want to be accused of abandoning her. He came up next to her and resumed his position at her side.

Merrenda looked back at him as he appraoched and spoke to the delegates, "Oh, here he is. This is the young man I was telling you about." She motioned to Arken, "Baron and Lady Allectus, I'd like you to meet Arken Dralkes, Lawman of House Redoran."

The baron extended his hand, "It's a pleasure, Master Dralkes. Both Lord and Lady Redoran speak very highly of you."

Arken shook his hand and shrugged, "I'm just a simple man trying to make his way in life." He nodded to him, "So what do you do in the house exactly?"

The baron switched his drink to his other hand, "I oversee Redoran dealings in Mournhold. I'm working on a property contract in Godsreach right now."

Arken raised his brow, "Sounds big."

The baron nodded, "Very. If it goes through, we can set up a warehouse in Godsreach that will supply a merchant shop in the Markets. Overall, it's a promising venture for the house."

Merrenda nodded to him, "And I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job at it. I apologize, but if you'll excuse us, please." She tugged at Arken's arm and he followed her away from the baron and his wife.

Arken glanced back briefly, "You know, I was actually interested in what he was saying, Merrenda."

Merrenda turned around as she led him out onto a vacant moonlit balcony, "I'm sorry, but I had to get away, get some air. Sometimes these events can be a bit stuffy for me."

Arken cocked an eyebrow as they came to a stop at the balcony rail, "I would've guessed you'd be used to it by now, having been brought up in it."

Merrenda shook her head as she looked out at the silvery view of the moonlit desert, "Not really. In fact, I think that's only made it more suffocating. The more I'm around snobby and stuck up nobles and delegates, the less I enjoy it."

Arken leaned his elbows on the rail and looked at her, "So if there was one thing you could change about your life, it'd be this?"

Merrenda shrugged, "This, and one or two other things. Father and I don't exactly agree on…" She paused for a moment before shaking her head, "Well, that's not important." She leaned her elbows on the rail and looked at Arken, "You don't seem to enjoy these events either. Odd for a noble's son."

Arken furrowed his brow and looked at her, "Who told you I'm a noble's son?"

Merrenda shrugged, "Well, I just assumed. You seem so proper, so well-mannered. By your behavior tonight, I'd have guessed that were noble-born."

Arken shook his head and looked out at the moonlit view, "Actually, my parents were common folk, merchants in Cyrodill. I didn't really follow the trade. I became something of an adventurer instead."

Merrenda canted her head, "Hmm. Did you not get along with your father?"

Arken shrugged, "Never really knew him. My parents were killed when I was very young. I had to…take some drastic measures at times when I was a boy."

Merrenda's eyes widened as he gaze fell, "Wow. I'll never complain about not seeing mother that often ever again. I'm sorry." She looked at Arken again, looking to change the subject, "So you came to Morrwind following the business opportunities?"

Arken shrugged again, "Yes and no. You might say that opportunity brought me here. It was all I could do at the time, and I can't really complain about it. I've gotten to do some interesting things, see some wonderful sights…" He trailed off as he looked at her, "I wouldn't have met you if I hadn't come here."

Merrenda smiled as she looked down and blushed, "Thank you." She looked around as the night grew darker and shuddered at the evening air's chill.

Arken noticed her shiver and immediately unfastened his cloak, "Here. This should help." He set the cloak around her shoulders.

She closed the cloak around herself and smiled at him, "Thank you. That's much better." For a moment, Arken saw something while looking at Merrenda. He saw trust. It was a trust that went beyond an ally or even a friend. This trust was deeper than that. It was a trust that Arken had never seen before, and one that he hoped would not be broken by things to come.

Arken breathed a sigh before glancing back at the party inside, "We probably need to get back inside. Your father's going to start wondering where you are."

Merrenda nodded, "I agree. Shall we?" Arken offered his arm and Merrenda took it without hesitation as they walked back into the crowd of people. The rest of the evening went by surprisingly smooth in spite of the activities being dictated by protocol and tradition. Arken couldn't complain though, because it gave him a chance to dance with Merrenda. Arken went home that night feeling better then he ever had in his life. Somehow, Merrenda's presence made him feel complete, like a long-standing void in his life had finally been filled. He enjoyed what he saw in her that night, but he was also fearful of what would be brought about in days to come. Only time would tell, and when the time came, then he would see what they were both made of.

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Arken leaned in through the door to the main chamber of the Morag Tong hall in Vivec and looked around. He found Krayven sitting at a table, running a stone down the edge of his sword. Arken looked around the room to assure himself that they could talk privately and started toward him. In his hand was a false writ of execution he'd asked Grandmaster Hlaalu to write up for this very reason. Hopefully, if Krayven was the one they were looking for, he would take the bait. Arken sat down at the table as Krayven put away his claymore and picked up a large Orcish cuirass that he started working on.

Arken looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "Heavy armor?"

Krayven kept working on the cuirass, "I've always preferred heavy armor. The only reason I tolerate this fluffy flutter is because it's enchanted." He paused to look down at his leather armor and scoffed, "For crying out loud, I'd be better protected if I wore bird feathers."

Arken shrugged and put the fake writ on the table, "I got something for you. Hlaalu wanted me to pass it on. He said it needed to be done soon."

Krayven glanced at the writ only briefly before going back to work on his cuirass, "You can have it. I've got enough things on my plate this week."

Arken bit his lip subtly. He wasn't taking it.

He opened the writ and looked at the number Hlaalu had stenciled in, "Two thousand drakes. That's a nice little gold nugget. You sure you don't want it?"

Krayven shrugged as he worked one of the pauldrons loose, "Like I said, I'm busy. I've got a life outside of the tong, Arken. You know how it is."

Arken looked back at the writ and read the name. It wasn't familiar and sounded Imperial, so he started making up details to make it a little juicier.

"Last I knew this guy was rather wealthy. That kind of high profile target could earn you some real respect when the others find out."

Krayven finally responded to the bait. His head came up with a start, "He's wealthy?"

Arken looked at him and nodded, "Yeah. Some kind of a merchant lord or something." Seeing an opening there, he pressed, "I've heard he's got some kind of huge vault in his house where he keeps his valuables. Piles of gold and a big chest full of gems, or something like that."

"Hmm." Krayven set his cuirass down and took the writ to look it over, "I've never heard of this guy."

Arken shrugged, "He came to Vardenfell a little less than a year ago. He's not very well known, and apparently not very well liked either; else we wouldn't have a writ with his name on it."

Krayven studied the writ for a while longer before cocking an eyebrow, "Hmm. I think I can make room in my schedule for this. Thanks, Arken. I'll see you around." Without another word, Krayven picked up his belongings and left the room, heading for the trapdoor exit.

Arken watched Krayven leave and furrowed his brow. All of a sudden, those things Krayven had to do weren't so important anymore. He stood and looked around the room. Now was as good a time as any to check Krayven's quarters, so Arken made his way down the hall to Krayven's room. He pulled a lockpick from his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole to see how hard it would be to pop it open. He was rather surprised to feel that there were five tumblers in place. After a minute of probing and after breaking a lockpick, Arken finally sprang the lock on the door and carefully pushed it open.

Inside was pretty much what he'd expected from the likes of Krayven Harkonus. His belongings were rather neat and his shelves were decorated with various trophies from past accomplishments. The first place Arken looked was the desk. He gently checked the piles of parchments, being careful not to disturb anything too much. Nothing. No sign of the writ he was looking for, or anything else that might incriminate him. Arken checked the dresser to no avail and the shelves with the same results. There was a locked chest at the foot of the bed, but it had a customized lock. Arken would need the key if he wanted to get in there. Overall, there was nothing to link him to the death of the slave trader.

Before leaving, Arken noticed one of the trophies on Krayven's shelf. It was a skull that he didn't remember being there before. Arken furrowed his brow. A bit of a grisly memento for Krayven to keep. He would've dismissed it completely were it not for something that was out of place. The skull's teeth were not resting together, almost like there was something holding them apart. He carefully opened the skull's mouth to find a key tucked inside. Arken removed the key and gingerly set the skull down, taking a moment to admire Krayven's thinking. No one would want to look for a key in a skull's mouth. He knelt in front of the chest and slid the key in, hoping it was what he was looking for. He was rewarded with hearing the latch spring and he opened the chest.

The sight he was treated to took him by surprise. A full suit of glass armor, a small case full of varying gems, several silver and ebony weapons, and enough gold to comfortably retire on were all stashed in the chest. Arken looked at it all and frowned. The gold he could understand since Krayven was a little bit of a miser, but the tong didn't pay its members with items like armor and weapons. Krayven had gotten all this from somewhere. Upon further examination, Arken noticed that several of the weapons had initials or names engraved into them, none of them matching Krayven's name. Arken leaned back and scratched his head. Was Krayven stealing all these things from dead marks? Thievery was obviously not a problem as far as Arken was concerned, but something about this just didn't sit right. There was something wrong here; he could feel it.

Arken noticed a small side compartment in the chest and opened the little door to find a number of small, rolled parchments. He pulled them out and started opening them to look through them. They were all writs of execution, and some of the names Arken recognized as having been wealthy people. He looked from the writs to the contents of the chest. Arken himself had nipped a few valuable items from marks he'd killed in the past, but why did this particular situation feel so wrong? He opened up the next writ and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw the name. It was the slave lord. Krayven had the writ! Arken immediately tucked all the writs into a pouch on his belt and locked up the chest after him. After replacing the key in the skull's mouth, he exited the room and pulled the door shut behind him. He turned around to lock it again and complete his little raid.

"Looking for something?"

Arken's head snapped around to find Krayven standing in the hallway. Doing his best to resist the urge to panic, Arken remained calm enough to think up a quick alibi.

He nodded calmly, "Yeah, I was looking for you. You didn't answer when I knocked so I…let myself in."

Krayven smirked and shook his head, "Keep your other occupation out of the tong, Arken. What did you need me for?"

The Dunmer pointed to the parchment in Krayven's hand, "I just wanted to know if you needed help with that writ. We are partners, after all."

Krayven waved it off, "No, I got it covered. Thanks for the offer, though."

Arken shrugged, "All right. Suit yourself. Good hunting to you."

Krayven nodded to him as he walked away, "Good hunting."

Arken rounded a corner in the hall and leaned against the wall to bring his racing heart under control. He'd never been so close to being caught in the act in his life. He took a few deep breaths before standing and continuing down the hall to the main chamber, where he found Savantus sitting at the table waiting for him.

Savantus pushed his hood back as Arken walked up to him, "You're late, Shadowstep."

Arken shrugged as he sat down, "Put it on my tab. What've you found?"

Savantus stared straight ahead, "The slave lord wasn't the first torture. There have been several kills that were rather brutal, all of them very similar to the slave lord. They were all marked by the tong, and coincidentally all of their writs are missing with no sign off."

Arken thought back on his conversation with Krayven earlier before he came up with something, "Were any of them wealthy, by chance?"

Savantus' eyes darted about as he thought for a moment, "Yes. All of them, actually." He leaned one arm on the table, "And, interestingly enough, all of them were reported to have valuables missing. Heirlooms, expensive weapons, life savings, that sort of thing. Why do you ask?"

Arken jerked his thumb back toward Krayven's room, "Because he took the bait you suggested. Except he only took it _after_ I mentioned that the mark was wealthy."

Artanus nodded slowly, "Hmm. You think that Krayven's stealing valuables from his marks?"

Arken shook his head, "If he is, that wouldn't explain why they're diced up. But on the other hand, I do have something that links him to at least one of them." He reached down to his pouch and pulled out the writs, dropping them on the table. He opened the one with the slave lord's name on it and Savantus simply nodded. The Imperial started going through the rest of the writs until he came to the last one.

He looked at the name and nodded again, "This is good, but one writ's not enough for Hlaalu. He'll dismiss it as circumstantial." He stood and gathered the writs, "I'll compare these to the names of the tortures on record. If they match, I'll polish it up in a report to Hlaalu and get it to him as soon as possible."

Arken shrugged, "Shiny. You need me for anything?"

Savantus secured the writs in his bandolier and nodded, "Stay in town for the rest of the day if you can. If and when the grandmaster gives the order to bring Krayven down, I'll want your help. I'll come find you just as soon as I've spoken to Hlaalu." Without another word, Savantus turned and headed out of the hall.

Arken did as he was bidden and stayed in Vivec after a quick Mages Guild zap back to Balmora to get Ra'Jharra. If Savantus wanted Arken's help taking Krayven down, then Arken also wanted help. He knew full well just how dangerous Krayven was. They waited in a tavern in the Redoran Canton while Savantus did his work. The problem started to make itself known when they kept waiting. Several hours passed with no sign of Savantus, and Arken was starting to get fidgety from the delay.

Ra'Jharra looked out the tavern door before returning to their table. Arken questioned him as he sat down, "Anything?"

Ra'Jharra shook his head as he took a drink, "No sign of him."

Arken looked at the wall for a moment, "This is taking too long. We should have heard something from Savantus by now. It's not like him to take his time with something this important."

Ra'j set his drink down and looked at Arken, "Maybe something went wrong."

The Dunmer breathed a sigh through his nose, "Unfortunately, that's what it looks like." He stood and checked his sword, "Stay here. If I'm not back in an hour, go straight to Hlaalu and have him bring Krayven in for questioning."

Ra'Jharra's ears turned back, "I should go with you; to watch your back."

Arken waved him off, "No. What we've learned won't do any good if no one lives to tell it. I know how dangerous Krayven is. We used to spar together, so if anyone has a chance of taking him down, I do."

The Khajiit frowned, "If you used to spar together, then that means Krayven knows your weaknesses, too."

Arken nodded, "I know. And I don't intend to give him a chance to exploit them." He turned to leave the tavern, "Remember: one hour. If I'm not back, go to Hlaalu."

Arken made best speed to the Arena Canton and down into the Morag Tong hall beneath. His first note of caution was that the main chamber seemed eerily empty. Either everyone was out on a contract, or everyone was avoiding the area for some reason. He went down the quartering hall until he found Savantus' room with the door wide open.

Arken frowned, "Artanus?" He turned into the room, "Artanus, what's the…" The sight he saw stole his next words. The door was open and Artanus Savantus was lying dead on the floor, face down in a pool of his own blood. Arken looked around the room briefly. There was no sign of forced entry and no sign of struggle short of an overturned chair. He knelt down next to Savantus and shook his head. This was a set back they couldn't recover from. Whoever had done this was good at what they do.

As Arken looked the body over, he noticed a wadded up piece of paper in his left hand. He pried back the stiffening fingers and opened up the bloodstained paper. Savantus had written it hastily in his last moments.

_Shadowstep, I don't have much time. The wound is deep and I'm bleeding badly. I wouldn't give myself more than twenty minutes. Arken, it was Krayven. Krayven did this. He got wise to us and now he's trying to clean up his mess. Watch your back. My report for Hlaalu is in my desk drawer. The key is in my right hand. Get it to Hlaalu; take Krayven down. I only regret not being there to see it. I've done my part, now it's time for yours. Good hunting and swift kills, Arken Drakles._

Arken quickly set the paper down on the floor as he pried Savantus' right hand open to remove the key. He went to the desk and inserted the key to unlock the drawer. When he opened it, his eyes widened. The drawer was empty. The report was gone. Arken almost turned to leave when he heard something behind him, the sound of paper being stepped on. Someone was in the room with him.

Arken dropped and rolled backward as a large blade slashed down through the air where he'd just been standing, splitting the desk in half down the middle. He rolled to his feet and drew his sword in the same motion, coming to his fighting stance facing his attacker. As Savantus had said, it was Krayven Harkonus, wearing toe-to-shoulder Orcish armor. He pried his claymore from the remains of the desk and turned to face Arken.

He reached under his cuirass and pulled out a folded parchment, "Looking for this?" He tucked it back under as he glanced at Savantus' body, "I knew you and Savantus were on to me from the moment you gave me that fake writ. Why else do you think I was playing along? If you guys didn't suspect that I knew, I could eliminate you both just that much easier."

Arken shook his head, "Why, Krayven? Why torture people and then steal their valuables? Is there some kind of 'sick freak' side of you I never saw all these years?"

Krayven smiled sadistically, "You almost had it right, Arken. I torture people _to_ steal their valuables. These wealthy sorts aren't always forthcoming with where they keep their money and high-price goods, even if they know they're about to die at the hand of an assassin." He looked down the length of his blade, "Pain has such a wonderful talent for loosening tongues."

Arken frowned, "So you'd torture your marks to get them to tell you where their valuables are?" He shook his head, "You disgusting vermin. I'm a thief and even I have more honor than that."

Krayven shrugged, "What's with you people and this 'honor' business? You and I both know, Arken, that all that matters in this world is getting a hold of all that you can of before someone else beats you to it. Except people like you are bound by this whole 'moral dichotomy' thing."

"Because some things are just plain wrong, Krayven. No one deserves to be butchered like an animal."

Krayven leaned on his claymore like it was a cane, "I've been your partner for five years, Arken. You and I both know that that's exactly what people are these days: animals. Selfish and savage."

Arken shook his head, "And you think you're any better by torturing people? Come clean with me, Krayven. Turn yourself in, and I'll convince Hlaalu to spare your life."

Krayven scoffed, "Spare my life so I can rot in a prison cell. Now there's an attractive choice for you." He shook his head, "I'm like you, Arken. I choose freedom."

Arken pointed his sword at Krayven, "You are nothing like me."

Krayven shrugged, "You and I are alike in a lot of ways, Arken. For instance, we both bleed red." He kicked his sword up to a fighting stance, "Allow me to demonstrate!"

Krayven swung his sword in a diagonal slash that Arken parried off. Krayven completed a spin and attacked again from the same direction horizontally. Arken crouched under the blade, hearing the steel ring over his head, and stood up with a vertical slash aimed for Krayven's chest. Krayven stepped back out of reach and brought his blade around to block hard. Arken used the sword's recoil to whip around and slash at his side, again blocked by the larger blade. The young Dunmer then completed a series of three spins, once and twice slashing with his blade, the third time sliding into a crouch and sweeping his foot under Krayven. The Imperial successfully blocked the first two strikes, but had his feet knocked out from under him with the third and fell to the floor with a hearty thud. Arken stood over him and raised his sword to strike when Krayven smashed the pommel of his weapon into the side of his knee. Arken's knee buckled and he staggered back, finally bracing himself against the far wall. Krayven shoulder-sprang to his feet and lunged at Arken with a thrust. Arken parried the incoming blade aside, causing Krayven to bury the tip deep into a wooden support beam.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Arken stepped forward and slammed his elbow into Krayven's sternum, following it up with striking the back of his fist against his jaw. Krayven took the full force of both blows and released his embedded weapon to fall back. Arken came in with another strike when Krayven bent back and kicked forward, ramming his heavy boot into Arken's stomach. The force of the blow knocked Arken's sword from his hand and gave him the dry heaves for a moment before he regained control of himself. Krayven followed his kick up with two crosses to Arken's face and a roundhouse kick to the shoulder. The crosses connected, but Arken saw the roundhouse coming and ducked under it. He came back up with a rising uppercut to Krayven's chin which he transitioned into an elbow-cross to the side of his head.

Krayven reeled around from the blow, giving Arken a chance to snake his arm around the Imperial's neck and secure him in a headlock. That didn't last long before Krayven elbowed him in the ribs and smashed his other elbow across his face, forcing Arken to let go. Krayven then reversed the situation by sliding around behind Arken and wrapping his own arm around the Dunmer's neck. He pushed forward, slamming Arken's chest into the wall and trying to knock the wind out of him. Arken knew what was going on and knew he had to get out of it quickly. He pushed off of the wall and curled his legs up, using Krayven as a support to walk up the wall and flip over behind him. Arken landed on his feet behind Krayven and punched the Imperial squarely in the face as he turned around. He nearly followed it up with another elbow-cross when Krayven muscled his way past him and yanked his claymore out of the wall. Arken's eyes widened when he saw that he was armed again and he rolled back away from Krayven's slash to get to his own weapon. He rolled past his sword, snatching it as he went by, and came to his feet just in time to block a hard overhand strike. Krayven broke the lock by sliding the two swords apart, raking sparks from his own blade in the process, and stepping back.

Krayven took a moment to catch his breath before smiling sadistically, "You might as well give up, Arken. Even if you do get to Hlaalu, he's not going to believe a word you say without Savantus' report."

Arken gave that mischievous thief's smirk as he held up a folded parchment, "You mean this?"

Krayven's smile vanished and he started patting himself down, checking various pockets and pouches. When he finally realized he'd been pick-pocketed while they were in that grapple earlier, his smile was replaced with pure rage. He came in with a high overhand slash with the intention of spitting Arken in half. The young Dunmer nimbly ducked under the swing, punching Krayven in the stomach and doubling him over. He stood and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of Krayven's head as he stepped by him and moved to the door.

Krayven turned around to look at Arken, holding his stomach and his face contorted with anger, "You may have won this time, Arken, but mark my words when I say I will kill you for this embarrassment! You have not seen the last of me. One day we will finish what we started here!" He pulled a small phial from his belt and shattered it on the floor. Arken turned away and shielded his eyes from the blinding flash the potion caused. When he turned back, Krayven was gone without a trace. So much, the better. Arken turned down the hall and ran full tilt to Hlaalu's chambers. This evidence would end Krayven's career as a Morag Tong assassin and avenge Savantus.

This whole escapade had shown to Arken that even a thief could know what was right and wrong. But if there was anything that Arken knew about Krayven, it's that he would some day return to fulfill his promise. He didn't want to think about that, because Krayven's vendetta might cause problems with a happy life with a certain young Dunmer woman Arken thought about a lot. But only time would tell. That much was certain. Only time would tell.


	7. Chapter VII

VII

The Telvanni guard captain looked around the room at his men, all standing at attention in his presence. He walked to each man, looking him up and down, making sure every little detail was correct. The captain had a flawless record. No one had ever successfully broken into the wizard's tower on his watch, and it was going to stay that way as long as he had anything to say about it. The captain had the only keys to the doors and there were no fewer than four guards on every level. The tower was sealed up tight, and he wanted to make sure tonight's security was the same way.

He turned his back to the wall to address his men, "All right, soldiers. You know how I want things done around here. No one has ever broken into this tower on my watch, and I intend to keep it that way. It's the lash for any man caught idle. To your posts, now." The guards saluted and those that weren't posted in this room turned to leave. The captain nodded assuredly to himself. No one was getting in here on his watch.

Through all the activity, no one noticed a shadow upon shadow moving in the dark corners of the room. No one noticed when the shadow slipped around behind the captain and cut the keys from his belt, silently replacing them with a ring of jingling metal that sounded like keys. Arken looked back at the guards before leaving the room. The captain would never know his pocket had been picked until he tried to unlock a door in the tower, which didn't give him a lot of time. He quickly and quietly made his way through the tower halls and up the stairs as he proceeded to the highest chamber. Arken shook his head. He never could figure out why wizards had a fascination for tall buildings and towers. He rounded a corner to find himself no fewer than four feet from a guard's back. As he started to turn around, Arken looked around the hallway and made the only move he could.

The guard turned around and walked down the hall, completely oblivious to the intruder in the tower. Arken looked down at him from above, suspending himself from the ceiling by pressing his hands and feet against the walls. He dropped down, landing quiet as a cat, and proceeded down the hall and further up the tower.

Arken finally came to what he was sure was the last door. It was the largest and most ornately decorated in the tower, so this had to be it. He unlocked it with the key and pushed it open, nodding to himself as he slipped through and closed it behind him. Leave it to Telvanni wizards to be paranoid. They'd never let the guards into the inner chambers where they stored all their magical trinkets. Arken scanned the shelves as he walked through the room, pocketing some of the more valuable items and leaving rest. He finally came to the end of the room where he found what he came all this way for. On a podium at the back of the room was a large, thick book, an ancient tome containing some of the greatest secrets of the school of Mysticism. Arken didn't care what it contained. All he knew was that it was worth a small fortune to the Thieves Guild fences. Arken allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk. He'd been planning this heist for almost a month, and it was all about to pay off. He closed the book and carefully slipped it into the carry bag he'd made for it.

With the payday secured, now Arken needed to get out with it. He cinched the bag and secured it to his back before going to the window and taking the rope from his belt. He fastened it tightly to one of the pillars in the room before throwing the rest of the length out the window. Arken made sure his belt and the carry bag were secure before he grabbed the rope and turned to position himself for the long climb down. Before starting, he looked out at the horizon. The sun was rising faster than he cared for, meaning he didn't have much time. If he was still climbing down by day break, he'd be at enormous risk of being caught. He secured the rope in his feet before sliding down and beginning a hand-over-hand descent. At this point, nothing could go wrong. It was almost four hundred feet down and the slightest mistake would result in a long plummet to the ground below. He continued down, not stopping to look or even to take a break. He just kept the rhythm going, one hand over the other. It was sooner than he expected when Arken felt his feet hit dirt. He released the rope after steadying himself firmly on solid ground before looking up at the climb he'd just taken. The tower's height was a lot more dizzying from the ground than from inside. With his prize in tow, Arken looked around to see if his descent had attracted attention before heading to the inn for the rest of the morning. The inn keeper still thought he was in his room, and he needed to make good on that.

Arken climbed the ivy on the outside of the inn to get to his room and slid through the window. After quickly hiding his prize and gearing down out of his leather thief's armor, he caught a few hours of sleep before the town started to come alive for the morning. Dunmer physiology was very resilient, allowing the Dark Elves to go for several days before needing a full night's rest, and Arken made full use of that fact. The mages at the local guild hall suspected nothing when he paid for transport back to Balmora.

As Arken walked away from the South Wall Corner club, several thousand drakes richer for the book's price, he stopped and looked back at the club for a moment. He couldn't be sure, but he could almost swear that he'd just felt the most fleeting pang of guilt over stealing that book. Arken had been stealing all his life, so that book was only one of several dozen he'd stolen in his days. No, this guilt was for something else. He kept walking back toward his home, but stopped over a puddle in the street, looking down at his reflection. For some reason, he was disgusted looking at himself. This guilt Arken felt was only added to a growing reproach he'd been feeling for almost two weeks now, and he knew exactly what it was all about.

Merrenda. Arken's guilt was because Merrenda still didn't know that he was a thief. They'd been seeing each other fairly regularly for almost a year now, not always with her father's consent, but Arken still kept his secret hidden from her. He felt guilty about it because Merrenda had always been very forthcoming with him, but he still kept this part of himself from her. It was eating at him. He couldn't escape it.

Arken blew through the door of his home, tossed the sack of money on the table, and sat down heavily in his arm chair, his new glass armor clacking loudly as he landed. He flexed his right hand in and out of a fist several times, the glass gauntlet clicking quietly with each movement. After being exposed a year ago, Krayven had fled so quickly that he didn't even collect his goods from his quarters. As a reward for exposing him, Arken had been given everything in Krayven's chest, meaning the old chitin armor had been replaced with a suit of much more resilient and nicer looking glass armor. He sat there in his chair, staring straight ahead, stroking his chin, and thinking. There was something deeper to this then just feeling bad about not telling Merrenda that he was a thief. There was something else, but he didn't know what, and that was what he wanted to brainstorm out right here and now. Arken had lied to people before, many people, and never really felt bad about it. Why was it so different with Merrenda? He'd hidden things from numerous people in his lifetime and hadn't had an inkling of guilt before. Again, why was it so different with Merrenda? Arken sighed. He felt so guilty because he didn't want to hurt her feelings because…

Ra'Jharra came down the stairs and started preparing the table for dinner, "I see you've returned. I assume your trip was successful?"

Arken ignored him as his eyes widened and his head came up suddenly. That was it! That was the reason for all the guilt! He stood from his chair and practically ran out the door, heading for the Mages Guild hall.

Ra'Jharra watched him run out and shrugged in confusion, "What's wrong? Hey!" He leaned out the door, watching the Dunmer run across the river, "What was that all about?"

Arken hurried to the Mages Guild and paid for transport to Ald'Ruhn. He rushed through the local guild hall and ran down the road to the Skar hall. He had to tell Merrenda now or it was going to drive him insane. He burst through the door into Skar and only slowed down when he came to the Redoran Hall. He searched high and low in the hall for the better part of twenty minutes before he finally found Merrenda in the library. He took a deep breath to collect himself before approaching her. This time, the truth was going to come out, and it was a scary feeling wondering what would happen when it did.

Merrenda turned and noticed Arken, smiling brightly at him, "Hello, Arken."

Arken nodded to her, "Hello, Merrenda." He took a breath before continuing, "Do you have a moment?"

Merrenda shrugged, "For you, of course. What do you need?"

Arken motioned to some nearby chairs, "You might want to sit down first."

Merrenda's smile disappeared as she followed Arken to sit in one of the chairs, "That bad, is it?"

Arken pulled the other chair around to sit across from her. He took yet another deep breath to calm himself before looking her in the eye, "Merrenda, there's something I have to tell you. It'll probably drive me crazy if I don't." He paused for a moment before continuing, "When I joined the House eleven years ago, officially I came in as a guardsman and messenger." He paused and sighed, "That's not how I joined. I joined as a…" He trailed off, forcing himself to say it, "…I joined as a thief."

Merrenda's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, "What? A thief? In House Redoran?"

Arken nodded, "I came to the house seeking protection for my activities, and your father was more than willing to take me. He limited my stealing only to the other great houses." Arken hung his head and let out a harsh breath before looking at Merrenda again, "I'm telling you this because you have a right to know. You've been very forthcoming with me, and it's only fair that I do the same with you. And because I don't want to hurt you. I care about you too much to let that happen."

Merrenda blinked several times and nodded slowly, "Arken, I know that you care, but…"

Arken shook his head, "No. It's more than that. It's something I've never said to anyone in my life." He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye, "I love you, Merrenda."

Merrenda looked at Arken's hands holding her own and looked up at him, "Arken, I…I understand that, but…but you're a thief that…" She trailed off, the confusion on her face changing to anger. She looked at the door out of the room briefly before looking back at Arken, "Wait here. I'll return soon."

Arken released her hand as she stood and stormed out of the room, "Merrenda, I…" He let his words trail off as he watched the only woman he ever cared about storm out in a huff. After all he'd gone through, all he'd hoped for…he'd lost her.

Merrenda practically stomped through the hall as she made her way to her father's chambers. It appeared that Arken wasn't the only one keeping things from her. She rushed by the domo outside the chamber, who hurried after her, trying to tell her to stay out of the room. It didn't work, and she flung the door open, breaking her father's concentration on what was on his desk and bringing his attention to her.

The domo followed her in, an almost begging quality in his voice, "Milady, please, the lord said he was not to be disturbed."

Merrenda held up a hand to silence him before turning her attention to her father, "When were you planning on telling me?"

Lord Redoran furrowed his brow, "Tell you about what, dear?"

"About Arken."

Lord Redoran's face became stern as he looked at the domo, "Leave us. Now." The domo hurried out of the chamber and closed the door behind him.

Lord Redoran stood up and started walking around his desk, "This is about Master Dralkes' occupation with the house, isn't it?"

Merrenda nodded as she walked closer to him, "You know full well it is, father. You could have told me that he was a thief. A thief, by the by, that _you_ hired." She stopped with some distance between them and crossed her arms, "Is there anything else you're keeping from me?"

Lord Redoran shook his head piously, "I didn't think you had any reason to know. I made the decision to explore opportunities to strike at the other great houses." He leaned back on his desk, "And truth be told, Merrenda, I was hoping you'd find out on your own. You're a clever girl, and I knew this sort of thing wouldn't escape you for very long."

Merrenda shook her head, "But why keep it from me at all, father?"

"I had thought that perhaps this knowledge would make him…less attractive to you."

"Less attractive?" Merrenda's eyes widened and she looked at him flabbergasted, "You're still trying to control who I marry, aren't you?"

Lord Redoran stood up straight, "It's what's best for the house, Merrenda."

Merrenda's jaw fell slack for a moment, "Best for the house? Father, I am your daughter; your own flesh and blood. What about what's best for me?" She put her hands on her hips, "What ever happened to wanting me to have the best you can give me as my father?"

Lord Redoran's face hardened and his hands dropped to his sides, "That's not fair, Merrenda."

"Is it?" She walked up to him, "You're trying to manipulate me behind my back and you complain when I do the same to you. This is wrong, father. I am your daughter; I am the last person you should be manipulating with protocol and house politics." Tears started to well up in her eyes, "How can I take pride in my family name when I know that my father does this to his own child?" She turned away from him to regain control of herself.

As Merrenda wiped the tears from her eyes, she heard her father whisper behind her, "What have I done?" She turned around to find him sitting in his chair, holding back sobs with his hands over his face.

She moved closer, "What?"

Lord Redoran looked around the room, looking everywhere but at Merrenda, "I've done this to myself. I thought by trying to control you I could…" He trailed off as he fought back more tears, "I thought that I could keep you from Arken. I thought that I could keep you here, where you belong." He finally looked at her, "I don't want to lose you, my dear Merrenda." He hung his head, "But it seems in trying not to lose you, I've only pushed you further away. I've been such a fool."

Merrenda walked around the desk and knelt down next to the chair to hug her father. He put an arm around her and held her close.

Merrenda picked her head up from his shoulder and turned his face to meet her gaze, "Papa, no matter what happens, no matter what family I marry into, or whatever else may be, you'll always have me. You're my father, and come what may, we're always family."

Lord Redoran broke her gaze, a tear glistening in his eye, "'Papa'. You used to call me that when you were little."

Merrenda nodded, "I know you'll probably never agree with my seeing Arken, father, but I ask you, please, do not interfere. This is my choice, and I'm not letting the politics and protocol make it for me."

Lord Redoran nodded as he looked at his daughter again, "You know I'll never agree with it." He smiled as he brushed a lock of her black hair behind her ear, "But you're a grown woman now, and a fine young woman that I couldn't be more proud of. Your choices are yours, my dear."

Merrenda smiled brightly as she hugged her father close, "Thank you, so much, papa." She kissed his cheek before standing and hurrying out of the room.

Arken stood leaning with his arms crossed next to one of the doors of the library, staring absently at the floor. He chose a place to wait that was near one of the room's exits. In spite of how much he loved her, if Merrenda came back with a contingent of guards on her heels, Arken wasn't about to give up his freedom without a healthy chase. As far as he was concerned, he didn't have anything left to lose, so what was a few hundred more drakes' worth of bounty on his head at this point. Arken sighed and shook his head. If it would get him Merrenda back, he just might give himself up.

Arken tensed and preparing for the worst when he saw the door at the far end of the room open and Merrenda walk through. He was pleasantly surprised when no guards followed her in as she crossed the room to get to him. Arken breathed a deep sigh. Might as well face her now and be done with it rather then let it hang over his head any longer.

Merrenda stopped less than a two feet in front of Arken as he kept staring at the floor, "I'm surprised you came back."

Merrenda shook her head, "I couldn't just leave you standing here, or worse, let the guards find you." She gave him a little smile, "I care about you too much to let that happen."

Arken's attention instantly came off the floor when he heard what she said, "What'd you say?"

Merrenda stepped forward and took his hand in her own, "I love you, Arken Dralkes."

Arken looked silently at his hand in Merrenda's grasp for a moment before looking at her, confusion covering his face, "But…but you know now. I'm a thief; how could you ever love someone like that?"

Merrenda smiled brightly as she shook her head, "I haven't fallen in love with a thief, Arken. I've fallen in love with a strong young man beneath the thief." She touched her finger to his chest, "You may not see it, Arken, but the thief is not _who_ you are. The thief is simply _what_ you are. Who you are is a good man who, unfortunately, has had to make some hard choices in life. I look at you, and I don't see a thief. I see Arken Dralkes, the man you really are." She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, "And I like what I see."

Arken put his arms around Merrenda and held her tight, savoring this knew feeling he now felt. With no parents and no friends to speak of when he was younger, Arken never really knew what it was like to be loved. But now, for the first time in his life, he truly understood. He now understood what it was like for someone to love him for who he was. It was a feeling that he cherished right along with the woman in his arms.

Arken leaned his head down beside Merrenda's and mustered the soft whisper that was his voice through the emotions, "Thank you."

Standing there holding Merrenda, Arken finally had the answer to his question. He didn't know what the case was for other thieves, but this thief had found love. As Fynix had said, Arken had stolen her heart the same way Merrenda had stolen his. There was now a brighter and more hopeful future for Arken. Another mold broken, and a better life to live. The horizon was bright, and the dawn was breaking for a new chapter in Arken's life.

------------

Arken walked into the Razor Hole to find the shop empty save for Thorck, who was busily hammering away on somebody's weapon. Even the Hlaalu guard who normally watched the shop was absent, which Arken didn't mind in the slightest. He casually strolled over to Thorck, who noticed him between hammer blows.

Thorck set his hammer down and wiped sweat from his brow, "Afternoon, Dralkes. How's that repair to your bow holding up?"

Arken nodded to him, "Just fine, Thorck. I expect nothing less from you." He picked up a silver-headed arrow and looked it over for a moment before continuing, "I have a question for you, if you have some time."

The Nord shrugged, "I can spare a moment. Speak your mind."

Arken nodded, working the arrow around in his hands, "I don't expect you to answer right away. In fact, I'd like you to think about it before answering." He paused for a moment and turned to Thorck, "Have you ever considered selling your business?"

Thorck's head jerked back in a surprised motion, "Sell the Hole? Why would I want to do that? I'm not ready to retire."

Arken shook his head, "No, I don't mean sell your business and retire. I mean sell your business to someone and let them handle the management duties, leaving you free to fill more customer orders."

Thorck shrugged, "Well, I never really thought about it." He thought for a moment before he eyed Arken suspiciously, "This 'someone' you're referring to wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

Arken smiled and nodded appreciatively, "You're very quick, Thorck. Yes, I am proposing to buy the Razor Hole. I'd run the management while you fill customer orders." Arken started pacing slowly, rubbing the silver arrowhead with his thumb, "It's like this. I'm working on starting an island-wide smithing company: the Coalition of Vardenfell Smiths. I've already bought a blacksmith in Vivec and one in Sadrith Mora, and I want to get something here in Balmora, too."

Thorck nodded, "And you chose my shop."

Arken shrugged, "You're the best in town, Thorck, and I don't believe in making second-rate efforts."

Thorck thought for a moment before he shook his head, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. If you owned my business, then I'd have to pay you a percentage of my revenues. That means I'd have to drive my prices up to compensate."

Arken shook his head, "Just hear me out, Thorck. I think I can change your mind." He continued pacing, gesturing with the arrow as he spoke, "The Coalition would work like a team. I've even negotiated special deals with the Mages Guild guides to make this work. If memory serves, you're not the best at repairing spears, am I right?"

Thorck nodded, "They're not my forte. It takes me a while to fix them, and it's not always the best job."

Arken nodded, "As I thought. Now, my smithy in Sadrith Mora can repair spears like no other. On the other hand, he couldn't fix or forge an axe to save his life. And, if I'm not mistaken, axes are one of your specialties, correct?"

Thorck shrugged, "I'm a Nord. What do you think?"

Arken nodded again, "Exactly." He stopped in front of Thorck and leaned against the far wall, still gesturing with the silver arrow like it was a pointer, "Now consider a hypothetical situation. Let's say you get a job from the local Hlaalu garrison to fix up some spears, which aren't your specialty. Similarly, my guy in Sadrith Mora gets a customer who needs some hewing axes repaired, again not his specialty. Now normally, you'd have to fend for yourself, but as part of the Coalition you could have a messenger switch the spears for the axes in Sadrith Mora. You repair the axes, he repairs the spears, and then you switch them back again so the right customer gets the right order. You get paid top drake for a good job on those spears, and he gets top drake for those axes. You both win in the end without having to depart from your specialties."

Thorck's eyes darted back and forth in thought for a moment before he spoke up again, "What kind of demands would you put on me?"

Arken opened his hands defensively, "I'm a reasonable Dunmer, Thorck. I wouldn't ask anything of you if I didn't know it was well within your capabilities. And in regards to a percentage, I want to make sure the Coalition isn't going to flop miserably before I start increasing income. I wouldn't ask more than five percent of your revenues for the first year, nonnegotiable. You bump up your prices by only a few drakes, and everybody's happy. You get your income, and I get my percentage. And in addition, since I'd be handling the management duties, you now have more time to fill more customer orders, meaning more money in both our pockets. It's a win-win thing all around."

Thorck stood silent for a while, his eyes darting back and forth and his jaw working around as he thought. After a long moment, he finally looked up at Arken.

"It's an attractive proposition, but let me sleep on it for a night. Come back tomorrow and you'll have my answer."

Arken nodded understandingly as he set the silver arrow down where he found it, "I completely understand, Thorck. I don't want to rush you into this decision. I'll be back tomorrow, same time, for your answer. Until then, good day to you." Arken turned and left the shop, setting out down the road at a good pace. He had a good feeling that Thorck would take him up on the offer.

He'd been batting around this idea for starting his own business for a while now, but only with recent events did he decide to start putting it into action. He knew that Merrenda was uncomfortable with his being a thief, but at the same time, ceasing his thieving would cut his income back by a significant margin. To compensate, Arken decided to use the considerable fortune he'd amassed over the years to start the Coalition of Vardenfell Smiths. If this company prospered as well as he hoped it would, it could be even more profitable than the thievery was.

Arken made his way across the river and past his home to the South Wall Corner Club, the local Thieves Guild headquarters. He still had to inform his doyen that he was backing out of the thieving industry. He entered the club and descended the stairs into the darkened lower room. He looked around, but didn't find who he was looking for.

Arken leaned on the bar to talk to the barkeep, "Hey, have you seen Valnir around?"

The barkeep set a glass he was cleaning down and pointed at one of the back rooms, "He's in his office, packing his things."

Arken furrowed his brow as he looked at the office door, "Packing his things? Hmm." He walked over to the door and pushed it open quietly. Sure enough, the office was littered with bags and boxes all being loaded with various items from around the room. Inside, Valnir Rivaelon, master thief and Thieves Guild doyen, was emptying his desk of parchments and books.

Arken leaned into the room, "Valnir?"

The older Dunmer looked up from what he was doing and smiled, "Ah, if it isn't the Lockbreaker. Come in, Arken, come in. I apologize for the mess."

Arken walked in and looked around, "Valnir, what's going on?"

Valnir shrugged as he put some books into a sack, "Haven't you heard? I'm retiring."

Arken cocked an eyebrow, "Retiring? You're what, two hundred, two ten, and you're already retiring?"

Valnir nodded, "Two hundred and fourteen, to be precise. And I'm just retiring from the guild. I'm switching jobs; something easier, less involved."

Arken shrugged, "Well, what about your guild duties?"

Valnir waved it off as he rolled up some parchments and placed them in a sack, "I've already distributed my duties to a few very qualified people." He looked at Arken briefly, "One of which would have been you, had you been around more often lately."

Arken chuckled under his breath, "Well, I'm flattered by the attention, but I'm not going to be around much longer myself."

Valnir's head came up and he stopped what he was doing, "You're not?"

Arken shook his head, "I'm backing out. Taking it easy for a while."

Valnir placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward, "You haven't lost your nerve, have you?"

Arken scoffed loudly, "Not in your wildest dreams, Valnir. No, I'm just taking a nice long break for a while."

"Hmm." Valnir shrugged, "I'll pass it along. Good luck in whatever venture you may be embarking on."

Arken nodded, "Thanks. And speaking of which, what were you planning on doing?"

Valnir shrugged as he cinched a sack and placed it with several others, "I was planning on sticking around on the island for a little while, ten or twelve years or so. Then I was thinking about heading to Cyrodill. Are you familiar with the city of Cheydinhal?"

"Cheydinhal? Yeah, it's northeast of the Imperial City, directly opposite from my home town, Skingrad."

Valnir nodded, "I have some connections out there. I was thinking of setting up shop there, keep my ear to the ground so I can sell any leads or information I come across. I may even reconnect with the local Thieves Guild out there. I hear this 'Gray Fox' is quite the legend."

Arken nodded, "Well, good luck to you, Valnir. Shadow hide you."

Valnir nodded in return as Arken turned to leave, "Shadow hide you."

Arken left the South Wall and looked toward the sun. He still had a few hours left; plenty of time to get ready for tonight. He had a date with Merrenda tonight, but this was not going to be any normal date. Tonight was going to be special. Arken turned down the road toward his home to start getting ready for tonight's life changing event.


	8. Chapter VIII

VIII

Arken and Merrenda walked hand-in-hand along the outer walkway of the Vivec Temple District. The sky was clear that night and the stars shone brightly in the heavens. Over a year of seeing one another had caused Arken and Merrenda to grow very fond of each other. Tonight would see that change in a great and grand way.

Merrenda looked up at the night sky and sighed, "Aren't the stars beautiful, Arken?"

Arken looked up to the sky, and then at her, "You know what I'm going to say."

She rolled her eyes, "I know. Not as beautiful as me. You say that every time."

"And I _mean_ it every time, Merrenda." She shook her head and they let the silence hang in the air for several minutes as they walked.

Arken finally broke the quiet, "Merrenda, I've told you some of my stories, right? Times when I've escaped death with barely my skin."

She nodded, "You've told me and I've seen you. You're either the bravest or the stupidest man I know. I haven't decided which yet."

Arken snickered and returned her nod, "I've seen some creepy stuff. Kagouti packs, wild guar, flocks of cliff racers. Fighting bandits, marauders, even daedra sometimes." He paused for a moment as they stopped walking, "But it took me a long time to work up the courage for tonight."

Merrenda looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this." Arken knelt to one knee and held her hand in his, "Merrenda…will you marry me?"

Merrenda gasped as her eyes widened and she raised her free hand to cover her open mouth. She choked on her own voice for several moments, too shocked to speak.

She stammered over her words when she found her voice again, "Oh, Arken, you know I would…but…" She withdrew her hand and turned away from Arken with her arms crossed and her head down.

Arken stood up, confused by her response, "What is it? What's wrong?" He walked up close behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

Merrenda turned her head to look away from him, intentionally avoiding his gaze, "Arken, you know that I love you, it's just that…it's my father."

"What about him?"

Merrenda took a deep breath to steady her nerves, "My father is firmly set in the ancient traditions. He refuses to let me marry outside of my position."

Arken shrugged, "Can't you talk to him?"

She nodded, "I have, many times, but every time it ends in our agreeing to disagree. He's a stubborn man, Arken. I come by it honestly."

Arken leaned his head over her shoulder to try to look at her, "I'll talk to him. Maybe there's something I can do, some position I can be promoted to that will make him change his mind."

Merrenda shook her head, "You would have to be a kinsman noble. In other words, you'd have to have been born into House Redoran, Arken."

Arken shook his head, refusing to accept defeat, "There has to be some way."

Merrenda's head came up slowly as she thought of something, "There is a way. You could never meet my father's criteria to allow me to marry you," She turned to face him, "which is why I will step down from my position in the House."

Arken saw the determination in her eyes and shook his head, "No. I won't let you. There has to be another way."

"There is no other way, Arken. I was born into a world of wealth and comfort, but all of that is empty if I can't enjoy it with the man I love. This is my choice. I love you, Arken Dralkes, and I would rather have you than all the wealth of Morrowind."

The scarce tear graced Arken's eye as he looked into Merrenda's eyes, "You would do that for me?"

Merrenda smiled beautifully, "Without a second thought."

The two closed the gap between them and kissed one another for the first time, wrapping their arms around each other and holding tight. After a long moment, they came apart and Merrenda rested her head on Arken's chest.

Arken ran his fingers through her long black hair and looked down at her, "I promise I'll be the best husband to you anyone's ever seen. I swear on my parent's graves, I'll take care of you, and I won't let anything harm you."

Merrenda looked up at him, "You don't need to make that promise. I know you, and I know you'll do your best."

Arken closed his eyes as he held the woman he loved. Not only did she love him, but she was willing to put forth a tremendous sacrifice for him. Merrenda thought he was worth stepping down from her position in House Redoran. It was a sacrifice Arken could never repay, except by being the best husband he possibly could for her.

Arken's eyes snapped open and he tensed when he heard a blade drawing from a sheath. Both he and Merrenda looked up and around to find that they'd been surrounded while they weren't paying attention. About a dozen bandits and thugs had formed a circle around them with weapons drawn. Without hesitating, Arken drew his sword and pulled Merrenda around behind him to shield her.

The bandit ringleader, a Dunmer with long red hair tied up in a high ponytail, stepped forward, "How touching, but I'm getting rather nauseous. Break them up."

The bandits started to advance on them. Arken stepped forward, swinging his blade and being blocked hard by a bandit wielding a heavy battle axe. Arken cranked the weapons around to disarm his opponent when he was struck in the lower back from behind. He winced as he dropped his sword and fell to one knee, a searing pain shooting up his spine. He tried to stand again when he was struck a second time in the same place. A single nerve punch in the back was bad enough, but a second in the same spot was unbearable. Arken fell to his knees as a bandit came up behind him, grabbing his arms and holding him spread in a submission hold.

"Arken!" Merrenda tried to come to his aid before a pair of bandits grabbed her and started dragging her away. She struggled and cried out, but there was nothing to be done. Arken watched them take her away, his eyes filling with a seething fury.

The ringleader watched them drag Merrenda off before returning his attention to Arken, "Don't worry about her, my friend. We'll take good care of her. Lord Redoran will pay more for her if she's undamaged." He looked at the bandit holding Arken and made a "kill" motion across his neck, "Remember to dump the body." He turned to follow the rest of his men and Merrenda.

The bandit drew a dagger from a sleeve sheath, but Arken wasn't about to lay down and die. He wrenched his arm free to elbow the bandit in the hip, buckling his leg. He followed it up with sweeping his foot out behind him in a low roundhouse that brought the thug to the ground. Arken finished the bandit off by wrapping his arms around his head and twisting hard, rewarded with a loud crack. The bandit fell limp on the stone walkway, his head turned nearly completely backward.

The ringleader turned around at hearing the scuffle behind him and shuffled back several steps when he saw how Arken had killed one of his men so quickly. He drew the sword at his side and steeled himself as Arken snatched his own sword up while charging the leader full force. Arken connected the blades hard and cranked them aside as he stepped forward and punched the leader in the jaw. He staggered back, holding his face, as Arken pressed the attack. He dropped down and swept a low roundhouse through the leader's legs, knocking his boots together and toppling him to the ground. Arken kicked the leader's sword away as he raised his own weapon and staked it straight down into his chest. He cranked the cold steel to the right once to ensure its lethality before pulling the blade out. These thugs had counted on Arken becoming broken down and losing his will to fight at seeing Merrenda being dragged off. What they hadn't counted on was one very important fact about Arken Dralkes: Arken never gets broken down; he gets riled up. Now, Arken had a good head full of steam, and the skills and resolve to use it to get Merrenda back.

Arken took off running at full sprint in the direction the bandits went. In Vivec, the only way to leave the city quickly and quietly would have been by boat, meaning the bandits were probably heading for the closest gondola dock. Arken took the shortest route he knew to get there, counting on Merrenda giving the thugs a fight every step of the way. Even when he did find them, Arken knew it was going to be ten-to-one odds, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to stand by idly and let a bunch of thugs take Merrenda away like this.

Arken came within sight of the bandits as they were arriving at the dock. He gripped his sword tighter as he sped up to attack. When they saw him, the bandits all looked and broke into a cacophony of confused chatter.

"Hey! It's the bodyguard again."

"How'd he take down the boss?"

"I'm not waiting around to find out."

Three of the bandits immediately turned and ran, not wanting a taste of Arken's blade skill for themselves. The rest released Merrenda as they all stood their ground and drew weapons. One was even fool enough to charge. He didn't last long. When he closed the distance, Arken parried the thug's mace aside before coming back with a tip-slash to his neck, spinning the bandit around and landing him face down on the stonework with blood pooling from his severed throat. Seeing that one fall so quickly caused another bandit to drop his weapon and turn to join the other three who'd already fled.

The rest all attacked together. Another bandit fell quickly when Arken ducked under his swing and came up with a slash across his chest, killing him instantly. He parried two strikes from another bandit before dodging aside of the third, causing that thug to accidentally impale another bandit who attacked from behind. While the two thugs were tied up, Arken turned and brought his sword down hard, severing the first bandit's hand at the wrist. He screamed as he fell to his knees and grabbed the bleeding stump before passing out shortly after.

The two remaining bandits tried to pincer Arken between them. Seeing through the tactic, Arken ducked under one bandit's hammer as he swung. He stood and punched the thug in the stomach on the way up, doubling him over enough for Arken to roll over his back and get out of the pincer. Arken hit his feet and kept an arm around the thug's neck as he turned to fend off two strikes from the second thug. Arken then used his human shield as a support to hike up one foot on the other bandit's shoulder, then swung his other leg over to scissor-kick the bandit hard across the side of the head. The bandit staggered back and tripped over the stone railing to fall to the water below. Arken set his feet on the ground and finished the show by grabbing his human shield's chin and yanking hard, breaking his neck. He tore a sleeve off of a bandit's shirt to wipe the blood from his blade.

Without skipping a beat, Arken looked over toward the gondola dock to find Merrenda on her knees and sobbing into her hands. He ran over to her and set his sword down as he knelt down and gathered her up in his arms. She grabbed him fiercely and continued to cry all the harder.

Arken softly stroked her hair and spoke in a calming tone, "It's okay, Merrenda. They're gone now. It's all right." He consoled her as she sobbed into his shoulder. She began to calm down after a moment and pulled away from Arken to wipe her eyes.

Merrenda wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Arken, "I'm sorry, it's just that I was so scared."

Arken shook his head, "It's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of now. I'm here, and I took care of them."

Merrenda sniffled lightly as she looked out at the carnage her fiancé had wrought, "You killed them all?" She looked at him again, "By yourself?"

Arken nodded somberly, "If they thought I was just going sit there and do nothing while they tried to kidnap you, then they had it coming."

Merrenda looked down at Arken's sword on the walkway, "You have got to teach me how to use sword like that."

Arken put his hand on Merrenda's cheek, "I will. It'd be a good idea that you know how to defend yourself." He hugged Merrenda closer, "Right now, I'm just glad you're alright." Arken looked over his shoulder to the sound of armored footsteps running up the walkway. About half a dozen Ordinators were coming to investigate the disturbance with shields ready and swords drawn.

The lead Ordinator, the only one not wearing a helmet, looked around at the mess of bodies before looking at Arken, "What happened here?"

"These thugs tried to kidnap Lady Redoran." Arken pointed to the bandit with a missing hand and motioned down the canton walkway, "Stumpy there is still alive and several others ran that way."

The lead Ordinator looked around at his men, pointing at the unconscious bandit, "You two, get him to the Temple. The rest of you, follow me." Two Ordinators picked up the bandit and started carrying him to the Temple while the rest took off after the ones who fled. That left Arken and Merrenda alone on the stone walk. They just sat there, holding each other for a long time before they finally made their way to the Redoran Canton to go their separate ways for the night. Arken went to bed that night the happiest Dunmer in Morrowind. Finally, for a hopeless little orphan thief, his future looked brighter than ever.

------------

Arken made his way down the main road of Sadrith Mora until he came to Fynix's mushroom house. He walked up to the door and rapped on it good and hard to make sure Fynix would hear.

His response came muffled through the door, "Come in. The door's open."

Arken pushed the door open and stepped through, "Just out of curiosity, Nix, do you ever actually greet a guest at the door, or do you always just yell through it?"

Fynix turned around from his desk and smiled, "Just for you, Arken." He held up his hand and little motes of purple light spiraled up from his wrist to his fingertips, "Life sensing spell. I recognized your aura." He used a telekinesis spell to drag another chair over so Arken could sit, "So what brings you around here today? Certainly, you're not just here to berate my hospitality." He closed the book he was reading as Arken sat down, "By the by, how are things going with you and Merrenda?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here, Fynix." Arken sat back and stretched his legs out, "I think the words 'best man' will sum it all up enough."

Fynix's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, "You're kidding! You actually proposed to her?"

Arken nodded, "And she said 'yes'."

"Arken, that's wonderful! Congratulations. You must be thrilled."

Arken shrugged, "Thrilled, nervous, jittery, scared out of my mind, or all of the above. Take your pick."

The smile of Fynix's face faded with his next question, "Does she know?"

Arken nodded confidently, "I told her a couple of weeks ago. She seemed to take it well enough."

"What about your connections with the Morag Tong?"

Arken shook his head, "That's _all_ they're going to be from now on: connections. I'm going to stop taking marks as soon as we're married."

Fynix sat back in his seat and folded his hands, "So when's the wedding?"

"Three months from yesterday. As my best friend, I had hoped you'd consider being my best man."

Fynix nodded, "I would be honored and privileged to be your best man, Arken." He shook his head and smiled, "Look at you. You're positively beaming."

Arken shrugged and shook his head in return, "No, I'm just hiding the nerves really well." He leaned forward and took on a more serious tone, "Actually, I have you to thank for this whole thing coming together in the first place. Without your advice to pursue this relationship, I'd still be doomed to bachelorhood right now."

Fynix shook his head, "As I've said probably a million times since we've known each other, it's the least I can do for a friend."

Arken nodded and extended his hand, "Well, thanks for being a friend, Nix." Fynix shook it and Arken stood to leave, "Just so you know, I'm expecting you to dress in something nice for the wedding. Those mage robes are just way too Second Era for me."

Fynix rolled his eyes, "Oh, good golly. Will you just leave already?"

Arken smirked as he left Fynix's home and headed for Wolverine Hall. There were exactly one hundred and seventy three days until he was married, and he was going to be counting every one of them. In the interim, he was going to be busy. He had to make some changes to his home to accommodate the little woman as well as helping with the wedding preparations. Arken shook his head as he pushed open a door into Wolverine Hall. These were going to be the longest three months of his life.

------------

"…And thus, by the power vested in me by the powers of our great Tribunal, I now proclaim you to be husband and wife."

Arken and Merrenda kissed each other deeply as the priest finished his litergy. They came apart and turned toward the crowd as they lifted a roar of cheers and applause for the newly-wed Dunmer couple. Arken looked down at Merrenda, his new bride, taking in just how beautiful she looked in the white gown she was wearing. She looked up at him and smiled brightly, the white flowers in her hair accentuating her smile. The two kissed each other briefly again before starting down the aisle in the middle of the crowd of guests. Fynix nodded proudly to Arken as he walked by. He was dressed up in a very sharp-looking green brocade doublet with matching felt pants, an oddly stylish outfit for the normally very humble mage.

On Merrenda's side of the aisle, her parents were about to burst with pride for their daughter. Even Merrenda's mother, the enigmatic Lady Redoran, turned out for the wedding. Merrenda stopped to hug them both on the way by, and Lady Redoran broke down crying on her daughter's shoulder. Her little girl was all grown up and starting a life of her own. They were both understandably disappointed that she had stepped down from House Redoran and wasn't following the family traditions, but they were also both immensely proud of her for being willing to make big decisions on her own. All in all, it was a bittersweet moment for all three of them.

Later on in the afternoon, Arken and Merrenda stood in a corner of the reception hall as they received the wedding presents everyone had brought for them. Some gifts were simply large sums of money to help get them started, although if they saw the latest finance records from the Coalition, they would learn that money wasn't necessary. Some of the gifts were ornate decorations for the house, things that could become heirlooms for generations to come. The most interesting was the final wedding present. Arken and Merrenda thanked an Imperial couple for their gift and were surprised to see Ra'Jharra walking up from the last place in the line. He was dressed in a sharp looking suit of blue and green finery and carrying a long, cloth-wrapped object under his arm.

Ra'Jharra walked up to the newly-wed couple and bowed, "Master and Mistress Dralkes."

Arken smiled and shook his head as he patted the Khajiit on the shoulder, "I'm not going to give up telling you to stop calling me 'master', Ra'j."

Merrenda shook her head at Arken's comment, "Thank you for sharing this day with us, Ra'Jharra."

Ra'Jharra shook his head, "It isn't over until I have bestowed my own gifts to the newly-wed couple." He set the long object on the table and unwrapped it to present it to Arken, "This, my lord, is for you."

Arken's eyes widened and his jaw went slack when he saw what Ra'Jharra was giving him. It was a shining new longsword, jet black in appearance with gold lining from tip to pommel. He carefully took the sword and drew it from the scabbard. The beautiful weapon was the shape and design of your traditional silver longsword, but composed of midnight-black ebony. Gold filigree was laid throughout the handle, hilt, and guard, with a long streak of gold outlining the blood grove along the blade, and it shined with a mirror-polished sheen from top to bottom. Arken took several steps back from everyone and swung a few practices slashes through the air. The sword wasn't as heavy or awkward as so many ebony weapons were. In fact, the weight was balanced such that it would add extra momentum to the swing, helping make strikes more powerful. The scabbard was a black lacquered material with gold embellishments on the catch and tip.

Ra'Jharra stepped forward and motioned to parts of the sword as he spoke, "I had Thorck forge it for you for this very day. The blade is folded ebony; nearly indestructible and keeps a razor edge for a very long time. The tang almost fills the whole handle, making it a perfectly balanced weapon for a warrior of your skills, my master."

Arken shook his head in amazement, "Ra'j, it's beautiful." He slid it back into the scabbard, "It's so nice, I'm almost afraid to use it."

Ra'Jharra smiled and shook his head, "It won't bother me in the least if you bang it up a little. That just means you've been using it to protect yourself and your lovely new bride." He reached over to the cloth the sword was wrapped in and pulled out a small pouch, "And in speaking of the lovely lady, this is for you."

Ra'Jharra opened the pouch and presented Merrenda with a beautiful gold necklace. Merrenda gasped as she carefully accepted the jewel and looked it over. It held a gold amulet about the size of a coin, studded with little green gems around the edge encircling a larger green gem in the center. Small black pearls hung from every fifth link in the chain. All in all, it was a gorgeous, and probably horrendously expensive, piece of jewelry.

Merrenda stared at the gem wide-eyed, "This is beautiful, Ra'Jharra. Thank you so much."

Ra'Jharra nodded, "If it pleases you, my lord, I would be pleased to see how it looks on the lady." Merrenda took off her old necklace as Arken unclasped the amulet and fastened it on her neck. As soon as he fastened the catch, little sparkles of blue-white light spiraled up from her feet, swirling around her body, and vanished above her head.

Arken looked from Merrenda to Ra'Jharra, "What was that?"

Ra'Jharra just grinned, "The amulet is enchanted with several potent resistance and restoration spells. It cost me a small fortune just to get a soul gem powerful enough. It's my way of offering my own protection for the lovely lady."

Arken looked at the amulet hanging from Merrenda's neck again, "Who enchanted it?"

"A good friend of yours named Fynix Nylim. He was more than honored to enchant it for you."

Arken nodded, "I'll have to thank him for that later." He glanced at his new sword and looked at Ra'Jharra, "Thank you so much, Ra'j. These have been the best gifts by far."

Ra'Jharra shook his head, "These gifts are not as much in honor of your day today, my lord, but in honor of such a kind and generous master you have been to me for all these years."

Arken nodded again, "And I couldn't have asked for a more noble or loyal servant, Ra'Jharra. Which is why today I'm giving _you_ a gift." He stepped forward and put his hands on Ra'Jharra's shoulders, "From this hour henceforth, I release you from your bound service to me." He stepped back and nudged the Khajiit's shoulder, "Live it up, Ra'j. You're a free cat now."

Ra'Jharra shook his head, "I was a free cat the day you rescued me all those years ago. I was simply repaying a debt."

"Well then, consider your debt repaid." Arken stepped back and put his arm around Merrenda, "And we wish you luck in your new life."

Ra'Jharra smiled as he bowed to them, "A long and prosperous life to you both, Arken. Farewell." Without another word, the Khajiit turned and headed for the crowd of guests in the rest of the assembly hall.

Arken watched Ra'Jharra walk away, "You know, I think that's the first time he's ever used my name."

Merrenda leaned on Arken and patted his chest, "As you said, he was loyal. A good servant would never use his lord's name."

"He was a lot more than a servant. Besides you and Fynix, he was the closest thing I had to a friend for a long time. But he's free now. His choices are his own and a new life awaits him." He looked down at Merrenda, "Just a like a new life awaits us."

Merrenda smiled as she laid her head on Arken's shoulder, "Yes, it does." This day was more than simply a wedding day. Like any wedding, it was the mark of a new chapter in the lives of two people. For one of those people in particular, Arken, it was the mark of a new change in his life. It was a change of rather than using his skills to further his own greed, they would be put to use defending the one he loved. A bright dawn lingered on the horizon, and it was a day that Arken was anticipating with great joy.


	9. Chapter IX

IX

Arken stood with his foot hiked up on a stump outside his home in Balmora, watching his wife, Merrenda, rehearse a series of basic sword swings on a wooden dummy. The honeymoon in Mournhold lasted two weeks before the newly-weds returned from their trip to start their new lives together. Arken had the Coalition to see to while Merrenda kept the house in order. Interestingly enough, for a woman brought up in a lifestyle where being spoiled and clueless was common, Merrenda knew a great deal about the common housewife. She still burned a meal every now and then, but she and Arken both were still getting used to this whole "married life" thing. At present, Arken was making good on his promise to teach Merrenda how to properly wield a sword.

Merrenda finished her swings and Arken nodded, "That was good. You connected very solidly with each swing. But, there some things you need to work on." He walked up to her and took the wooden practice sword she was using from her to demonstrate, "First, you have to remember this is a longsword, not a claymore. You should only use two hands when you need to put some extra spunk in the swing." He stepped back and demonstrated several swings one-handed, "You see how the blade is more agile one-handed? You need to practice that. Second, your stance leaves you vulnerable. Your left foot is too far forward. An opportunistic opponent would use that by swinging for your leg to make you lower your guard." He demonstrated his own stance, "It's best to keep your feet mostly under your shoulders so your weight's balanced."

Merrenda shrugged as she accepted the practice sword from him, "You make it look so easy sometimes."

Arken smiled and shook his head, "I make it look easy because I've been wielding a blade all my life. You just picked it up a week ago. Just give it plenty of time and practice, and you'll catch on before you know it."

Merrenda turned back to the dummy and resumed her practice swings, "Who taught you how to use a sword?"

Arken snickered as he leaned against the house, "Good old Trial-and-Error was my teacher, love. My first sword was a rusty old iron blade I pulled out of a junk pile. I've picked up some advanced tips and techniques from pros over the years, but I'm mostly self-taught." He stretched as he watched his wife beat the dummy mercilessly, "In fact, you're lucky that you have a teacher at all."

Merrenda set the practice sword down and wrapped her arms around Arken's neck, "And a very good teacher, I think." Arken held his wife close and kissed her for a long moment before they came apart and she rested her head on his chest. It was a happy life that nothing could ruin.

"Am I interrupting?"

Arken's head whirled around at hearing the familiar voice, "Fynix? Good to see you." He looked back at Merrenda briefly, "And actually, yes, you are interrupting."

Fynix shook his head as he took several steps closer, "I'm sorry to intrude, Arken, but I need to talk to you."

Arken's smile vanished when he saw the grave look on his friend's face. He looked back at Merrenda, who only nodded with an unspoken "I understand" in her eyes. They released each other from their arms and Arken walked over to Fynix.

Arken crossed his arms as he leaned against his house, "What's wrong, Nix?"

Fynix took a deep breath before proceeding, "It's my father. He's in trouble."

"What happened?"

"He was in Mar Gaan, delivering a shipment of potions to a local shopkeeper, when a Telvanni constable started getting all hot under the collar at him."

Arken's frown deepened. He could see where this was going, and he didn't like it, "Why? What'd he do?"

"The constable charged him with 'local government sedition', which is the Telvanni's way of saying that he was using magic in ways they don't approve of. He's under house arrest at the local tavern. He managed to get a letter out to me yesterday." Fynix took a breath and looked at Arken with an urgency in his eyes, "Ark, they're going to try to execute him. They're going to trump up false charges against him and hit him with a death penalty. If they succeed, father won't last the week. I need to do something, and I need your help."

Arken stood there silently, absently tapping his fingers on the leather bracer that covered his Morag Tong Mark on his left arm. Any other day, he'd have grabbed his gear and been ready to go before Fynix finished his explanation, but now he had someone else to consider in this. He glanced back to find Merrenda only a few paces back.

He looked at Fynix briefly, "Wait here." He walked back to Merrenda and took her hand as they walked slowly, "How much did you hear?"

Merrenda hung her head, "I heard enough." They stopped walking and she turned to face him with an understanding gaze, "Go. Fynix needs you. I wish I could go with you, but I wouldn't be much good in a fight." She touched Arken's cheek, "I understand, love."

Arken nodded slowly before gently pulling her into a hug, "I may be gone for a while. If you need anything, Ra'Jharra's only a few houses down the road. You know he'd be more than happy to help."

Merrenda rested her head on her husband's shoulder, "Be careful, beloved."

"I will." He pulled her back to look into her eyes, "I love you."

"I love you, too." They kissed briefly before turning and heading for the front door.

Arken put a hand on Fynix's shoulder on the way by, "Give me a minute to gear up and we'll be on our way."

Fynix nodded, "Thank you, but please be quick. I want to get to Mar Gaan as soon as possible."

Merrenda helped Arken gear up and saw him off as the two friends took the silt strider on the north routes. They switched striders several times before having to take the rest of the journey on foot. After traveling through the rest of the day and all the night, the pair finally came upon the little town of Mar Gaan. Mar Gaan was a small settlement in western Vardenfell, not very active and not very important, a good place to keep a low profile. Arken and Fynix walked into town to find a usual bustle of small town life. There wasn't much going on today, which was odd for a town that just had a man arrested. In any other small town, the locals would be buzzing around to spread the gossip as fast as possible. These people all seemed most interested in minding their own business.

The pair started toward one of the local shops when Arken leaned over to Fynix, "I think I should do the talking. And keep your hood up. Someone might recognize you."

Fynix pulled his hood up as they came to a small trader booth, "Good idea. I'll be waiting here." Arken left his gear with Fynix as he stepped over to the stall and looked around, finding it rather devoid of customers. Most of the items on display were either second rate or damaged. Not much to work with here.

He leaned on the counter and got the vendor's attention, "Excuse me? Do you know where I can find Deryk Nylim? He's a mage, alchemist by trade."

The shopkeeper, an Imperial, leaned back and shook his head, "Ooh, bad mojo to be talkin' 'bout an arrested mage, mate. 'Specially with that Telvanni constable still struttin' 'round town."

Arken reached into his pocket and pulled something out, "Maybe I can turn your mojo around." He opened his hand to reveal about a dozen gold coins.

The shopkeeper's eyes widened when he saw the money and he looked up and down the road twice before leaning forward and dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Well, you didn't 'ear it from me, but that mage they arrested was moved late yesterday to the local guard tower. He was just under house arrest until they caught him sendin' letters to someone."

Arken winced. The situation wasn't getting any better and Fynix wasn't going to be happy to hear it.

He reached into his pocket and dropped a few more drakes on the pile in his hand, "Where's the tower?"

"Less then an hour's walk east of town."

Arken nodded as he dropped the coins on the counter, "Thanks. You've been a big help."

The vendor shook his head as he gathered the coins, "No, _you've_ been a big help, mate. You've no idea how much I needed this. That Telvanni's been suckin' this town dry; says we owe 'em land taxes."

Arken furrowed his brow, "I thought Mar Gaan was a free settlement."

The shopkeeper scoffed loudly, "Well, tell that to that power-hungry old scroat." Arken frowned as he turned and walked away from the stall. He hefted his pack of gear onto his shoulder as he and Fynix started toward the local inn.

Fynix looked around before leaning closer to Arken, "Find out anything?"

Arken rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and none of it was good, either. Your father's been moved to the local guard tower because they caught him sending messages to you."

"Blast. We need to get him out of there."

Arken nodded, "I agree, but there's more here than meets the eye. It seems the Telvanni have been exacting some kind of land taxes from the townsfolk."

Fynix frowned, "But Mar Gaan is on free land. None of the great houses have holdings this far north, except maybe Hlaalu and Redoran."

"I know, which means only one of two things. Either the Telvanni are trying to expand into Mar Gaan, or…"

"…Or there's a corrupt Telvanni constable here that needs to be put in his place." Fynix huffed, "I had a feeling there was something fishy behind all this."

Arken pointed at the inn ahead of them, "We'll settle in first, then we'll gear up and go check out that tower. It's about two miles east of town. And while we're here, we should keep an ear to the ground for who's in charge of the Telvanni operation here." Arken and Fynix situated themselves in a room at the local inn before gearing up with their armor and weapons to go investigate the tower. They walked east for about forty minutes before they crested a small ridge to find the structure they were looking for. As soon as Arken laid eyes on it, he knew from experience that this was going to be no easy task. The tower was well guarded on all sides along with rooftop archers to boot.

Fynix looked at the tower for a moment before looking at Arken, "That's it?"

Arken nodded, continuing to analyze the tower's defenses, "That's it. It's sealed up tighter than a mudcrab's buttocks. They've got at least two guards at every door, rooftop archers, and probably one or two guards on every level inside. And Dagoth knows how many guys are guarding the prison beneath. This isn't going to be easy."

Fynix looked at the tower, "It looks like it's time to put that thief to good use, Arken. Certainly you can think of some way to get in there."

Arken nodded tersely, "I didn't get rich off of other people's goods by not being good at what I do, Fynix. I've already conjured up four different ideas to get into that tower."

Fynix looked at him and shrugged, "Well, if that's it, then why don't we get in there tonight and get father out."

Arken looked at Fynix and shook his head, "Because all four of those plans end with us dying horrible, agonizing deaths. I don't know about you, but I'll pass on that"

Fynix scoffed as he looked at the tower again, "Well, I hope you've got more ideas where those came from, otherwise we're not getting in there."

Arken shook his head as he looked at the tower, studying its strengths and weaknesses, "I don't need a lot of ideas. I just need one that will work." He thought for a moment before he looked at Fynix, "You're an alchemist, right? You know of any potions that are flammable?"

Fynix made a face and shrugged, "Flammable? I don't know. Just about anything could be flammable if you mix it with the right things. Why?"

Arken pointed at the tower, "Because I think we're going to give the Telvanni guards a little show tonight." He explained his plan in detail. It was sound, if not risky and a little strange. The two Dunmer returned to the town to make preparations for their little raid. Fynix started brewing potions up with some alchemy apparatus he brought with him while Arken took to the streets to get the skinny on this whole "tax" thing. After greasing a few palms, he learned that a Telvanni constable had come to the area with a contingent of soldiers a little less than a year ago and was becoming increasingly present ever since. Within the last month, he'd started taking heavy taxes from the people, claiming "advancement of Telvanni interests in the area". One of the townsfolk had done a little digging into why this constable was here and found that there was no order from the Telvanni house council. Unfortunately, he "mysteriously disappeared" shortly after discovering this, and no one dared investigate any further for fear of "vanishing" themselves.

Arken clenched his right hand into a fist as he made his way back to the inn. Everyone always branded him an outlaw for breaking the laws of the land, but at least he had the spine to not hide behind the laws he was breaking. He got back to the room and laid out on his wolf skin bedroll to catch a few hours of sleep before the raid, making a note in his own mind to search the tower for evidence to bring this crooked constable down. As he started to drift off, his mind wandered to his beautiful wife, Merrenda, wishing he could be back in Balmora with her, but knowing that Fynix needed him here. He grinned at the thought of Merrenda's beautiful smile and rolled over to get some rest. Tonight would be…interesting.

------------

Arken stayed crouched in the shadows of several bushes on the low ridge near the tower. He held his bow in a loose grip, staying calm for the moment to move. Fynix was in a small grotto several hundred yards away, preparing their diversion. Arken watched the guards on and around the tower while he waited. They were either devoted or very well paid, because they kept an untiring vigil on the area around the tower.

The plan commenced when Arken heard a series of shrill whines a distance away. The guards around the tower all started to look around when they heard the noises, also. They found out what the noises were when a number of small, flaming objects sailed over the trees and careened into places on or around the tower, where they exploded into gouts of flame. The soldiers all started to take cover around the tower and under their shields as they were showered by little exploding fireballs. Arken nodded to himself, acknowledging that the first phase of the plan was beginning. This volley would continue for the next several minutes to simulate an attack on the tower, giving them their chance to infiltrate.

Fynix came running through the darkness, sliding on the dirt into a crouch next to Arken as he looked toward the tower, "The projectiles are going off. Are they taking the bait?" As if on cue, the guard captain started rallying his men and pointing toward where the fireballs were coming from. He and about a dozen of his men all left their posts and started toward where the volley originated.

Arken smiled as he watched them go, "Like flies to sugar." He pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on the bow string, "My turn. Stay here. I'll signal for you when I'm done." He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the night. Fynix watched apprehensively for a minute, wondering when Arken would make his move. Even though he was expecting it, Fynix was startled to see an arrow fly out of a nearby tree and strike one of the roof archers through the neck. Before the other archer could respond, another arrow flew out of the tree and hit him squarely above the sternum. Fynix saw Arken drop out of the tree and wave him over.

They went to a back door and Arken produced a lockpick get them in. Once he popped the tumblers, he pushed the doors open and they both entered the tower. Arken led the way as they moved cautiously through the torch lit hallways, still aware of guards in the tower. Fynix's life sensing spell could see through walls and around corners to warn them if anyone was in their path. They advanced down the halls and took stairs and ramps down to the lower levels wherever they found them.

They came to an intersection when Fynix tapped Arken's shoulder to get his attention and pointed to the right. Arken nodded and crept forward, peering around the corner to see what Fynix was referring to. There was a guard standing along the right wall of the hallway, holding a spear and shield. Arken quietly drew a dagger from his boot as he silently crept into the hall, staying very low and against the wall to stay out of the guard's peripheral vision. Arken slinked to within a foot of the soldier before he sprung. He stood and staked his dagger cleanly in the base of the guard's neck above his cuirass, killing him instantly. Arken sheathed the dagger and looked around, pointing out some stairs that led downward and waving Fynix over to follow him.

After a long time of moving downward and searching the basement of the tower, the Dunmer pair finally came to what looked like a detention area. They came down a set of stairs into a short and well lit hallway lined with iron bar cells along either side. Fynix took the lead and started looking in each cell down the line. He finally found an older Dunmer in the last cell, lying on the bed with one arm over his face.

Fynix set his staff against the wall and rattled the cell door, "Father, there you are."

Deryk Nylim's head came up at hearing his son's voice and he turned to look, "Fynix! By the gods, what are you doing here? I told you not to get involved." Deryk Nylim had a full head of charcoal hair like his son, but added to his age with streaks of grey and a mustache and goatee of the same shade.

Fynix shook his head, "Well, father, it was either disobey you or never see you again. I chose the former."

Deryk shook his head, "Remind me to beat some sense into that thick head of yours after you get me out of here. The key is over on that table."

Arken grabbed the key from the table and tossed it to Fynix, who promptly used it to open the cell. Deryk pushed the door open and immediately pulled his son into an embrace. He stepped back from him and patted him on his armored shoulder.

Deryk smiled at Fynix, "I need to tell your mother to slap me any time I start talking about you being stubborn and thickheaded."

Fynix chuckled, "So how many sick people did you help before the Telvanni constable caught you?"

Deryk's smile vanished and he shook his head, "None. That wasn't what I meant when I said they charged me with sedition." He picked up his foot and reached up his pant leg to pull out a bundle of rolled up scrolls, "They arrested me because I found this."

Fynix took the scrolls and started to unroll them, "What is it?"

"Finance records; both the false ones and the real ones. It looks like this constable has been skimming off the Telvanni vaults for a couple of years now."

Fynix's eyes widened when he saw the numbers, "By the Nine. The house council is going to bury him alive when they see this."

Arken chuckled, "Shiny. I'll get the shovels."

Deryk noticed Arken and looked him over, "Who's this? You hired a mercenary to help you get in here, Fynix? So you're disobeying me _and_ blowing away your money. I thought I raised you better."

Fynix chuckled and shook his head, "No, father. This is my friend, Arken Dralkes. Arken, this is my father, Deryk Nylim."

Deryk extended his hand, "The pleasure is mine, Master Dralkes. My son speaks very highly of you."

Arken shook his hand and nodded, "You've raised quite a guy here, Master Nylim."

Everyone was brought back to the situation at hand when an arrow flew from the other end of the hallway and struck the stone wall. A guard with a bow stood in the doorway, readying another arrow. As if in a rehearsed motion, Fynix dropped to one knee as he turned around while his father stood over him and both extended one hand to unleash a lightning spell. Both spell bolts hit the guard squarely in the chest, sending him flying back and smashing into a wooden cabinet at the end of the hall.

Arken squeezed between father and son, "Nix, help your father get his things from the evidence chest. I'll cover the door." Arken took up position to watch the stairs while Fynix helped his father get outfitted for the escape. The diversion had given out by now and that troupe of guards would be on their way back to the tower, if they weren't already here by now. Arken looked back to check on progress. They were almost ready.

Arken's head came around when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He drew his sword and steeled himself with a little bit of anticipation. This would be his blade's first taste of blood. A single guard came down the stairs with sword drawn and immediately went on the attack as soon as he saw Arken. The young Dunmer raised his weapon to block the strike. The guard's sword struck the ebony weapon and recoiled off hard, with Arken feeling little more than a bump through his handle. He took advantage of his opponent's pause to strike, building up some momentum by twirling the sword around in his hand once as he reared back and swung. The sword struck with such piercing force that it split through the lower half of the guard's bonemold armor on the way in to his flesh. The guard doubled over and fell down the stairs to the floor. Arken looked wide-eyed at the dead guard and then at his blade. This weapon was good!

Arken smiled as he looked at his sword, "Ra'Jharra, I could kiss you." He was torn from his reverie by Fynix and his father appearing at the bottom of the stairs, and the trio started up as fast as they could. The garrison would be entering the tower about now, and they had to move fast to avoid being trapped in the lower levels. Arken took the lead as they hurried through the dark stone hallways, dealing with what resistance they encountered along the way. With each guard he took down, Arken liked his new sword more and more. Ra'Jharra had very clearly designed it as a real warrior's weapon.

The three came to the main level and rounded a corner in line with a door to the outside when Arken almost skidded to a halt, holding his arms out to halt the two men behind him. The door was already open and there were dozens of guards pouring into the tower.

Fynix looked at Arken over his shoulder, "I think we can take them."

One of the guards spotted them and pointed them out to the others, who all started charging toward them with weapons drawn.

Arken hurriedly turned around, "Not today, we can't. Let's move!" The trio turned around and started heading up the tower. They rushed through each level, mounting stairs wherever they saw them. Arken kicked his idea machine into overdrive to think of a way out of this one. They could stay away from the guards for now, but it was only a matter of time before they ran out of tower to climb.

That moment came sooner than anyone was prepared for when Fynix pushed the next door open and walked out into the open air of the tower's top level. Arken started looking around, searching for some rope or sheets, anything they could descend the tower with, but he was coming up dry.

Fynix looked around before he looked at Arken, "I think we've run out of options, Arken."

"We're not dead yet, Fynix." Arken started looking down the sides of the tower to see if there were any ropes or climbing bricks.

"We've got to get down from here, but the only path is crawling with angry Telvanni soldiers." Fynix looked at his father, "Do you know any levitation or feather spells that might work, father?"

Master Nylim's eyes widened and he shrugged, "Don't look at me. You're the Alteration expert, son."

Arken looked down one side of the tower and noticed several trees that were close to the tower and almost as tall. It was the same bramble of trees he shot the archers from. There were no limbs this high up that were strong enough to grab, but it might work to break a fall.

Arken waved Fynix over, "How much do you trust me?"

Fynix shrugged as he walked over and looked down, "I trust you enough, I suppose."

Arken nodded, "Good. Then jump."

The Dunmer mage looked at him horrified, "Jump? Are you out of your…"

"No time. Just jump." Arken grabbed the bottom of Fynix's Orcish cuirass and levered him over the edge. The poor battlemage fell into the trees, flailing and screaming as he dropped. Arken watched him fall into the grove, listening for a loud thud that never came.

He waved Deryk over, "Your next." With a resigned shrug, Master Nylim stepped up onto the edge and plummeted into the trees below. Arken turned around at hearing the door break open and several archers poured onto the roof with bows ready. He turned and hopped over the edge as several arrows sailed through the air where he'd just been standing.

The freefall before hitting the trees was the agonizing part, because Arken knew what was waiting for him. He knew he was not going to tumble down through a forest canopy without getting cut to ribbons by every sharp little branch and twig, and he could only hope that Fynix and Deryk hadn't already broken all of the stronger branches that would slow his fall. Arken gritted his teeth and braced as he hit the first branches.

Fate played the hand in his favor once again as his fall slowed down to a less lethal pace. Unfortunately, it meant hitting every branch on the way down. Arken was tossed, turned, thrown, swatted, and smashed every foot of the way. The only reason he didn't break a bone was likely his glass armor. He finally emerged at the bottom of the canopy and landed face down in the dirt with a hard thud. He picked himself up as best he could, considering what he'd just been through. Both Fynix and his father had survived their own respective descents and were picking themselves up off the ground. Arken rolled off his stomach and levered himself up into a sitting position.

Arken shook his head to clear it and started picking leaves out of his hair, "Remind me. Whose idea was that again?"

Fynix sat up to his knees and checked himself over, "Funny. He looked a lot like you."

Arken nodded dryly, "Yup, that's what I thought."

Master Nylim braced himself on his staff as he stood up, "At least we survived it. But it won't take long for the guards to come down and look for us."

Fynix stood and brushed himself off, "Father's right. We need to make tracks, and fast."

Arken nodded sourly, "Yeah. Just give me a minute to recover from my stupid idea." He bent his knees once to make sure they still worked before standing and brushing himself off, "We'll head south until we hit Ald'Ruhn. I've got connections there that can help us disappear." The trio started out for Ald'Ruhn, traveling through the rest of the night and half of the next day until they came to the small desert town. When they arrived, Arken used his status with the Redoran to ask for protection. Given the nature of Master Nylim's wrongful imprisonment, the Redoran were more than willing to harbor them for a day while everything cooled off. While waiting, Arken sent the corrupt constable's financial records to the Telvanni house council, just to be certain that they'd bury him for what he'd done.

Nearly a week after leaving Balmora, Arken came home to a loving wife and a hot meal. It was good to be home, but Arken had learned yet another lesson. He had learned that his skills, even a thief's skills, could be put to good use. Skills and abilities were amoral, having no sense of right and wrong of their own. It was how those skills were used that determined whether they were good or evil. Even though he was a thief, Arken was still a good man because he knew how to put a thief's skills to good use. And he learned that that's what counted in the end.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Twenty seven years. Twenty seven years of financial prosperity. The Coalition of Vardenfell Smiths was a rival to even the East Empire Company's holding in Morrowind. Twenty seven years of being on the right side of the law. The only things stolen recently were from the rich and corrupt, and those were promptly given back to the rightful owners. But most of all, it was twenty seven years of pure happiness. Arken and Merrenda had lived happily for over a quarter century in a life of perfect bliss. Of course, there were the rough spots and occasional arguments, but it was nothing they didn't work out and nothing that didn't make their love for one another all the stronger. It was twenty seven years of heaven.

Arken came down the stairs of their home, looking over several business reports. On the way by the kitchen, he looked at his lovely wife, Merrenda. She noticed him looking and smiled beautifully in return. It was the beginning of another wonderful day in a wonderful life.

Arken turned with a start when he heard the front door break in. Several soldiers kicked in the splintered wood and stormed into the house. Arken frowned and backed up by a step. His sword was upstairs in his closet and these soldiers wore the darkened steel of the Imperial Legion, meaning they were not to be trifled with. They surrounded Arken, his back to a wall, and drew their swords in near unison.

The Legion captain stepped forward and pointed his sword at Arken, "Arken Dralkes, by power of Imperial law, you are under arrest of grand thievery."

Arken stood silent for a moment before blurring into action. He stepped to his right, jamming his elbow into the throat of the soldier standing there. He grabbed the stunned soldier's wrist and jerked his arm forward, pulling him into another elbow to the ribs. The soldier coughed as he dropped his sword and Arken released him to catch the weapon as it fell. He twirled it into a proper fighting position and stood to his stance.

The Legion captain raised his shield to guard himself, "You are under arrest, Dralkes. Make this easy for everyone and surrender."

Arken shook his head slowly, "I've been a free man for nearly forty years, and I'm not giving that up without a fight."

"I'll warn you one more time, Dralkes. Surrender or we will be forced to put you down."

Arken's frown deepened, "Try if you like, but I'm not going to lay down and die just because you say so."

"So be it. You've forced my hand." He looked around at his men, "Take him down."

Merrenda watched in horror as the Legion soldiers advanced on her cornered husband. The first soldier came in with a high strike. Arken blocked the strike and slid underneath, grabbing the soldier's shield and smashing it into his face twice. The soldier staggered back and fell to the floor, too dazed to fight for now. Another soldier advanced and swung his round shield in a shield-crush move, trying to take advantage of the spike in the middle. Arken dodged aside from the strike and rotated around the soldier as he clumsily charged forward. He then grabbed the neck of his cuirass, stopping him cold and yanking his feet out from under him. Arken brought the pommel of his sword down on the guard's forehead, putting him out for a while. He was using non-lethal defensive moves, trying not to add "assault of Imperial soldiers" to the rap sheet. The soldiers continued to attack for several long minutes, continually unsuccessful against the highly skilled Dunmer.

The long and tense moment finally came to an abrupt end. One soldier came at Arken with his weapon held high to the side, attacking side arm. Arken did the only thing he could at the time. He dropped to one knee under the blade as it passed over his head, and swept his blade across the soldier's gut just beneath his cuirass. It was an instinctual move, one that happened on its own in response to a threat, and an effective one at that. The soldier dropped his sword and doubled over, falling to the floor in a heap with blood seeping from the body.

The Legion captain stepped back and looked at his men, "Bows, now!" His soldier's responded by sheathing their swords and taking several paces back away from Arken as they drew their bows and pulled back an arrow each.

The captain pointed his sword at Arken again, "You killed one of my men, you scum. But in spite of that, I'm giving you one final ultimatum. Surrender or we will not hesitate to kill you."

Arken scowled at him defiantly, "Than I'll die a free man."

"No!!!" Arken turned his head to look when he heard Merrenda cry out. The next few seconds seemed to go by in slow motion. Merrenda ran toward Arken, throwing her arms around him and putting herself between the soldiers and her husband. Arken tried to turn around to shield her before he saw her head lurch back and felt a sharp pain in his abs. He pulled Merrenda away from him to see that he'd been hit by one of the soldier's arrows, but that wasn't what horrified him. The arrow had hit him _through_ Merrenda's body. The arrow was sticking in her lower back and piercing through her belly. Her blood slowly stained the red satin dress she wore.

Horror spread across Arken's face as he dropped to one knee, cradling his wife in his arms, her blood staining his shirt, "What…Merrenda…No…"

Merrenda coughed lightly, speaking through shallow breaths, "No matter what anyone says, love…You're always a hero to me." She reached up to weakly caress Arken's cheek with her fingertips, "Live free, my beloved." With her last breath drawn, Merrenda's eyes closed, and her head fell forward.

Tears flowed unbidden as Arken held her close, pressing his forehead to hers, his teeth clenched in a mix of fear, sadness, and rage. After nearly thirty years with the woman he loved, his time with her had come to an end. Arken wept over her, wishing that it had been him, _knowing_ that it should have been him.

In the mix of emotions running through his mind, the rage won out in the end. Arken looked up from his wife, his eyes burning with a fury to pale the fires of Oblivion. He sat there fuming, glaring at the men who'd killed his wife. She was gone, and it was their fault. In a flurry of motion, Arken snatched up the sword next to him and charged to closest one. He bludgeoned the bow out of his hand and ran the blade across the soldier's gut. Without pause, he moved on to the next soldier before he could react, swinging with a powerful strike that cut halfway through the soldier's neck, killing him instantly. The next soldier dropped his bow and drew his sword, but it did no good against the infuriated Dunmer. Arken nimbly ducked under the soldier's blade, rotated around him, and wrapped his free arm around the soldier's head before twisting harshly. The soldier's neck snapped with a loud crack and he fell to the floor. And so the slaughter went on, until no fewer than seven Legion soldiers lay dead on the floor. Arken moved to attack the next soldier, but was stopped when he was hit at the base of the neck from behind. He fell to one knee as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He tried to stand when he was hit again, harder this time, and the darkness claimed him.

The Legion captain sheathed his sword as he stood over the unconscious Dunmer. He looked at one of his men and pointed to Arken, "Get him to the fort. The magistrate will pass judgment there."

There was no trial. Arken stood before a court of a single magistrate and was pronounced guilty before he could even open his mouth in defense. Much to Arken's surprise, his friend Fynix was standing trial right beside him, charged as an accessory to Arken's crimes. Throughout the farce of a trial, Arken continued to wonder. How could they have known? His former life as a thief was a secret so closely guarded that his own wife would never have known had he not told her. The only way the Legion could have learned this was if one of his former contacts had sold him out. Arken and Fynix were both sentenced to long prison terms, Fynix for forty years and Arken for eighty. They were then thrown on a ship bound for the mainland, saying that prisoners like these should be held in the Imperial Prison itself, a prison from which no one has escaped in over forty years. Arken struggled the whole way, needing no fewer than four men to do something as simple as move him from the ship to the wagon. His wife was gone, the only woman he loved was gone, and he blamed the soldiers of the Legion for her death.

Arken sat brooding in the bouncy wagon as they entered the Imperial Province. Twenty seven years with the woman he loved, gone. Thirty eight years of building a life and a fortune from nothing, gone. All his money had been taken as "compensation fines", and the Coalition had been given to some fool who knew less about running a business than a rat's backside. All of it gone. Nearly forty years of building up his fortune and himself, nearly forty years as a free man, all gone in one fatal moment. Arken looked out the barred window of the wagon at the green grasses and tall trees they passed. He _had_ a bright future; a future with hope and happiness. Now, it was back to the beginning; just a nobody thief with no future.

Arken and Fynix had faced the worst together, as friends, and come through it in spite of all. Arken had built a fortune from nothing once before, and odds are that he could do it again. Can Arken and Fynix get out of this and start new lives? Could the workings of Fate be undone? Or had the Seeds of Fate been sown for a greater purpose? That is a tale to be told another time.

"…When the next Elder Scroll is written, _you_ shall be its scribe." - Martin Septim.


End file.
